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SCIENCE 
IN THE STABLE 



Science in the Stable ; 

OR, 

How a Horse can be Kept in Perfect Health 
and be Used Without Shoes, 

IN HARNESS OR UNDER THE SADDLE, 

With the Reasons Why^ 



Second American Edition, Enlarged and Exemplified, 



^-^ 



JACOB R, LUDLOW, M. D., 

Late Staff Surgeon U. S. Army. 
Lieut. -Colonel by Brevet. 




Easton, Pa.: \'''^y ^ .s<x\^ 

Press of The Eschenbach Printino House. 

1897. 



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6 



o,A^ 



THIS MONOGRAPH 

IS 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

TO THE 

SURGEON GENERAL 

OF 

THE UNITED STATES ARMY, 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



Copyrighted^ 



PREFACE 



T^HIS book has not been written for tbe 
use of stable boys or grooms, but for 
the consideration of intelligent and edu- 
cated persons who own, or are interested, 
in horses. Nor should anyone be offended, 
or allow himself to become prejudiced, by 
a mere glance at the title page. So much 
indeed has been written and said on this 
whole subject, that some sort of apology 
seems to be due the reader, and the writer 
would be loth to add anything more, did 



6 

lie not feel that he had something new to 
say, and if what has been said, should 
commend itself to the thoughtful, so as 
to lead to the crucial test of actual and 
thorough trial, it will be found, if courage 
does not lag too far behind conviction, 
that what has been said, is not only 
in some respects new, but what is of much 
more consequence, is demonstrably true. 

As to dispensing with shoes, this may 
be a matter of fancy, or convenience, or 
economy, and is quite secondary in im- 
portance to the restoration of the animal 
to perfect health. But in regard to this 
much debated and vexed subject, it is 
certain that many people in various parts 



7 
of the world do now, and liave always, 
used their horses without shoes ; and it is 
equally certain that not one of them can 
tell why they are able to do so. Others, 
largely in imitation of these, have at- 
tempted to dispense with shoes, and have 
failed. Why the first mentioned succeed, 
and the imitators fail, I have here en- 
deavored to show. 

J. R. L. 

Baston, Pa., January, 1897. 



SCIENCE IN THE STABLE^ 



IV TO animal so much enlists our sympa- 
thies as the horse. His strength, 
beauty, and docility, appeal to our finer 
sentiments, and his utility makes him in- 
dispensable to our comfort, and often an 
absolute necessity in carrying on the work 
of life, whether of business or pleasure. 
But we have all been so annoyed by the 
many ailments to which he is subject, and 
the ill condition into which he so often 
falls, that many people who have kept 
horses merely for pleasure, have been led 
to dispense with them entirely. 

And this trouble is continually on the 



lO 

increase. As wealth and refinement ad- 
vance, our horses are becoming more and 
more worthless. It was a vexatious ex- 
perience of this kind that led me to in- 
vestigate the subject, in the intervals of a 
somewhat busy professional life. 

The value of a horse depends chiefly 
on his speed and endurance. If he has 
endurance without speed, he still has a 
value ; if he has speed with endurance, he 
is very valuable; if he has endurance at 
speed, he is invaluable. But, if he has 
neither speed nor endurance, he has no 
value whatever. 

I have frequently noticed the possessors 
of fine teams afraid to dash out fifteen or 
twenty miles of an afternoon, lest their 
horses should suffer. Others drive two 



II 



or three miles at a leisurely gait, every 
few days, apparently to benefit tlie health 
of the horse, without regard to their own 
pleasure or amusement, and the only 
satisfaction that seems possible, is the 
display of a fine-looking and well-groomed 
team — a mere matter of pure ostentation. 

The horse must be constantly coddled, 
in the stable and out of the stable. He 
cannot stop any considerable time without 
being wrapped up in a warm blanket, and 
is always the subject of much care and 
solicitude. 

Such a state of things was unknown a 
hundred years ago, at least in America. 
Horses were then subordinate to man, not 
man to the horse. A man then took no 
pride in his horse, unless he could do 



12 



sometliing. He recognized the fact that a 
horse was a locomotive animal, and did 
not rate him high unless he could go and 
endure. Mere beauty of form and sleek- 
ness of coat, however desirable, did not 
satisfy. They did not, in those days, 
worship "stable furniture." 

Note that at that time blankets were 
little used, — never on saddle horses, — and 
the stables were carelessly built and very 
open. Glazed windows in barns or stables 
were almost unknown. 

Nowadays I frequently see horses com- 
ing from the country, blanketed to the 
ears, while standing in the street, with the 
thermometer at 60, and the sun shining. 

Fully half the horses we see on the 
street are stiff, or more or less lame. 



13 

Now there must be something wrong to 
account for all this. 

Some persons have ascribed it, in rather 
a nebulous way, to the effects of civiliza- 
tion. But how does civilization act upon 
the horse, to produce this result? Others 
again lay all the blame on the horse's 
shoes, and the farrier is found fault with. 

Those who refer all this trouble to civil- 
ization, instance the horses of semi-civilized 
people, that are exceptionally hardy, 
although they receive little care, and a 
great deal of bad and cruel treatment. 
Those who put all the blame on the shoes 
and the farrier, cite these same people in 
evidence, and because they never shoe 
their horses, therefore, the argument is, 
they never get stiff or lame. 



14 

I think I shall be able to show how 
civilization injures the horse, and at the 
same time makes shoeing necessary. 

When we inquire into the natural his- 
tory of the horse, we find that he is, pre- 
eminently^ an out-door animal. In his 
wild state, he is never housed. Night 
and day he is in the open air. Rain or 
shine, cold or hot, in storms of all degrees, 
he has no protection. He never creeps 
into caves for shelter, like the bear; nor 
does he burrow, like the rat or beaver. 
He is not a nest builder, nor a nest seeker. 
He stays in the open, seeking the lee side 
of a hill, or thicket, perhaps, and herding 
together to find protection. His instincts 
keep him from going into thickets for 
cover, to avoid the attacks of camivora. 



15 

He seeks safety by flight, and therefore 
prefers the open plain. His place in 
nature is the temperate zone, not the 
torrid, as many persons seem to think. 
If he belonged to tropical regions, why 
has he been furnished with a light coat 
for summer, and a heavy coat for winter? 
The torrid zone is the home of the fruit 
eaters and the flesh eaters, not the grass 
eaters. The Arabian horse could not live 
in Arabia in his wild state, because the 
country does not furnish his natural food. 
Where the foods he likes best grow, and 
are accessible, there the horse should be 
found. Now his preferences, we all know, 
are for the grasses growing or dried, for 
oats among the grains and the apple 
among fruits. The best grasses grow in 



i6 

tlie colder parts of the temperate zones, 
and this is true of oats, and equally so of 
apples. In hot countries, the grasses 
wither and die out, or become coarse, oats 
degenerate, and the apple gives place to 
the peach and the orange and the banana, 
neither of which is relished by the horse. 
Thus we see that the foods the horse pre- 
fers, all grow in the higher latitudes of 
the temperate zone, or on the elevated 
portions of the southerly parts of this 
zone. 

The higher latitudes, however, are sub- 
ject in winter to be covered with snow for 
long periods, and the streams sealed up 
by ice, so as to prevent the animal from 
obtaining his necessary food; but the 
elevated parts or table lands of the south- 



17 

erly portion are not subject to this condi- 
tion, and while more or less cold and 
windy, the food supply is always accessi- 
ble. When the horse was introduced by 
the Spaniards, soon after the discovery of 
America, and found his way to the high- 
lands of Mexico and Texas, he flourished 
and multiplied with great rapidity, and 
overran the whole country, and his descen- 
dants are still with us as the well-known 
broncho or mustang. 

The horses, however, that were left in 
Florida, all perished; they did not find 
the conditions favorable, neither the food, 
nor the water, nor the air. The grasses 
were absent, and the water abounded with 
alligators, that would make short work 
with colts, and even with horses, when 



they came to drink, and the air was full 
of insect life, that would give them no 
rest, either by day or by night ; and they 
have left no trace, except perhaps their 
bones. But on these extended uplands of 
Mexico, stretching out for thousands of 
miles, he was free to roam, and in the 
changing seasons, to follow the growing 
grass, and the running water; the winds 
dissipated the insect life, and with the 
earth for his bed, and the sky for his cover, 
he disported himself, in the sunlight and 
the starlight, in the vernal rains, the 
thunder storms of summer, and the frosts 
and snowfalls of winter, and found this 
his typical place for living. 

If we notice the things around and 
about us, we must see that the horse never 



19 

suffers from cold as man suffers from it. 
No one has ever seen a horse with his 
ears frozen, nor his feet frozen, no matter 
how much exposed to the bitterest cold. 
But many of us have had personal exper- 
ience of frozen ears, and I have seen many 
persons with frozen feet, involving the 
loss of the whole foot, and this, in spite of 
woolen stockings and warm thick shoes, 
and though not exposed to nearly the 
degree of cold that the horse resists with- 
out detriment. 

When we undertake to care for an ani- 
mal, the first and most essential thing is 
to place him as much as possible m his 
natural environment, 

A musk-ox cannot live much below the 
confines of the Arctic region. When seals 



20 

are placed in the aquarium of a museum 
they would die if the tank was not kept 
constantly supplied with ice. The com- 
mon domestic rabbit will thrive in a war- 
ren; it is a burrowing animal, and needs 
protection from the cold, as well as a 
refuge from danger. The hare, or our 
common wild field rabbit, would die in a 
warren; it depends upon its fleetness for 
safety, and needs no protection from the 
cold; it must have free, fresh air, which 
the common domestic rabbit does not need, 
and could not stand. The hawk would 
die in a cage in a parlor, while the canary 
bird thrives there, and would die of cold, 
if exposed to conditions that are essential 
to the hawk. The speckled trout, the 
gamiest of fish, finds its place in mountain 



21 



streams, where the water flashes in cas- 
cades or murmurs and babbles over rocky 
beds, thus charging itself to saturation 
with air. It cannot live in still ponds, 
where cat-fish and eels luxuriate, because 
this lack of freshness is not in accord with 
the requirements of its nature. 

So it is with the horse. His nature re- 
quires an abundance of fresh air all the 
time^ and he cannot be well, or do well, 
without it. He needs no protection from 
the cold, nor harbor of safety; but like 
the field rabbit, he has in his wild state, 
endurance at speedy and relies chiefly upon 
this to escape from any impending danger. 

We thoughtlessly compare a horse with 
ourselves. Man, who is a house-building 
animal, requiring warm clothing, artificial 



22 



heat, and cooked food, fancies that he 
must place a horse in surroundings that 
would be comfortable to himself. So he 
wraps him up in a blanket, and puts him 
in a warm, close stable. If he has the 
means, and values his horse highly, he 
builds him a stable with matched hard 
wood, oiled and polished, and ceils it tight 
overhead. He puts in glazed windows, so 
as to have plenty of light, and a ventilat- 
ing shaft, perhaps a foot in diameter, in 
the ceiling, with a closing valve, which is 
always shut in cold weather, and when left 
open, ventilates the stable about as much 
as taking a cork out of a bottle ventilates 
a bottle. He puts him knee-deep in straw, 
or on a good thick bed of sawdust, and 
then imagines his horse is happy. He 



23 

gives him the best of oats, and hay, and 
water, and would give him fried oysters 
and chicken salad if the horse would eat 
them, simply because he likes such things 
himself. 

Now he shuts his horse up in this way 
to keep him warm and comfortable. He 
believes his horse should be kept warm, 
because he himself needs warmth, yet he 
quite ignores the fact, that he does not 
try to keep his own apartments warm by 
simply closing the doors and windows, but 
uses stoves and heaters to keep the tem- 
perature comfortably warm, letting in 
fresh air from without. He knows that 
he would be injured if the air became foul 
and close. But his dominant idea being 
warmth, he loses sight of the fact, that in 



24 

shutting tlie liorse up in a close room, to 
keep him warm, lie must of necessity- 
poison him with foul air. The consequence 
of this is, that the horse rubs himself, 
and tears his blanket, because he is too 
hot, or his skin itches. He kicks against 
the enclosure to break an opening to let 
in the air; if he succeeds in breaking 
through, as the air flows in he becomes 
quiet, lies down, and goes to sleep. I have 
often known this to occur. Failing in 
this, he loses his appetite, and he gets stiff, 
or lame, or out of condition in some way. 
Then comes veterinary therapeutics, 
and endless contrivances, to correct what 
are considered his vicious habits. The 
viciousness, however, is in the man, not 
the horse. 



25 

The trouble is, lie is trying to make an 
out-door animal live in-doors, and that 
without giving him decent air to breathe. 
He supplies himself with a constant 
change of air, but seems to think that 
his horse needs none. What he thinks 
most important is warmth. He, in short, 
is trying to keep a hawk as he keeps a 
canary, or to force a field rabbit to burrow 
in a warren. 

A horse that gets enough to eat will not 
be injured by the cold^ nor suffer from it 
in any way. 

Major Arthur T. Fisher, late 2ist Hus- 
sars, in a book published in London, 1891, 
referring to this subject, records many 
things that are well worth repeating. On 
page 8, et. seq.^ he says: "Without the 



26 

requisite supply of fresh air, it is impos- 
sible to maintain horses in perfect health 
and condition. The wilful pig-headed 
ignorance of grooms, in this respect, is 
proverbial. They are so afraid that the 
horses under their charge will catch cold, 
and their coats will 'stare,' as it is termed, 
that they invariably stop up every crevice 
and ventilator in a stable, in cold weather, 
thereby thinking to secure the end they 
have in view, whereas they are all the 
time but taking the most certain steps to 
insure the very evil they would avert. It 
is well known, and I may say, an undis- 
puted fact by all those who know anything 
about the subject, that horses, young 
horses especially, on coming into stables 
from grass, are nearly always affected 



27 

with throat, and often with lung ailments, 
in a greater or less degree ; while assum- 
ing the reverse to be the case, and they 
are removed from stables to grass, they 
rarely, if ever, suffer from the change, 
thus proving how absolutely essential 
pure air is to their well-doing. Despite 
all that has from time to time been 
advanced on this subject, excepting in 
large establishments, a well and properly 
ventilated stable seems to be the exception 
rather than the rule, and there are many 
of the larger establishments, which I could 
name if I choose, where such details are 
very unduly cared for, and the ventilation 
is by no means what it should be, 
although the fittings, etc, of the stable 
may be ver}^ smart and lavishl}^ carried 



28 

out in other respects, and the horses' 
names painted up in gold letters, etc., and 
all that style of thing, I have very often 
in such stables been well nigh stifled with 
the overloaded atmosphere. ^' * * Jn 
cavalry regiments, young horses which 
are purchased as remounts, are chiefly ob- 
tained in Ireland, and these come over 
thence, in batches, varying in number as 
they are required. They are packed in 
cattle trucks, and started on their journey, 
and often have to travel in severe weather, 
with no other protection from cold than 
their own coats. Yet, on their arrival, 
few, as a rule, seem any the worse for it, 
beyond fatigue and accidents, the result 
of kicks, etc., and it is very rarely, if ever, 
that they are affected with coughs and 



29 

colds. They are nearly all brouglit straight 
from grass, yet within a few days after 
being placed in stables, and with every 
precaution taken to insure ventilation, 
the doors and windows of the stable being 
left open day and night, and but very few 
being placed in each stable, they nearly 
all suffer from coughs and colds, which 
generally end in strangles. During the 
autumn manoeuvres of 1875, ^ ^^^ "^i^^ 
my own regiment, and two other cavalry 
regiments, encamped for some days in a 
place called Colony Bog, near Aldershot. 
It was a time to be remembered very rue- 
fully by all who took part in them, by 
reason of its cheerless, wet misery; for 
during the ten days we were there, I can 
truthfully assert, that it rained almost 



30 

incessantly, day and night, and what, 
even in a dry summer, was always more 
or less of a bog, became a lake. Until we 
had been there for some days, exposed to 
all this inclemency of the weather, the 
horses had not as much as even a single 
blanket to cover them, and yet, notwith- 
standing this exposure, though it is true, 
they were affected by the cold and wet 
(and it was cold and wet), in other ways, 
colds and coughs were unheard of. Again, 
at the same time, an officer of my regiment 
had, of necessity, to take out with him 
into camp — he being short of horses — an 
old and favorite charger, which, at the 
time of her going out of the stable in bar- 
racks, was suffering from a severe cold. 
In a few days she was quite well 



31 

again. * * * If people would but give 
their horses a chance of breathing the air 
they should breathe, and which is so 
essential for them, they would save them- 
selves much anxiety and expense, conse- 
quent upon the frequent visits of the 
veterinary surgeon, and their horses would 
be more fit to look at, and more fit to go, 
than is but too often the case. '^ * * 

"Generally speaking, a horse does not 
catch cold from exposure. It is rather 
from the want of fresh, pure air, as I en- 
deavored to show at the commencement 
of this book (as above quoted in full). 
With mankind, a cold generally is fol- 
lowed by a cough ; with a horse the cough 
generally precedes the cold. A horse 
coughs, and the groom declares it to be 



32 

notliing but a little stable cougb. Tbis 
description sbould be rendered as a hot 
stable cougb. In sucb a case, it is more 
tban probable tbat, tbere being an utter 
absence of proper ventilation in tbe stable, 
the impure vitiated air bad irritated tbe 
mucous membrane, and so caused tbe 
cough. The irritation, unless treated 
promptly, spreads, and a cold is the result; 
the horse gets dull and restless, refuses 
his corn, and all the several stages of a 
bad cold ensue; the nostrils discharge, the 
poor horse is perfectly wretched, the owner 
is obliged to walk, and has probably to 
pay a veterinary surgeon a long bill, and 
all for the want of a little attention to 
proper ventilation." 

The above is from an officer known as 



33 

one of the very best and most accom- 
plished horsemen in England. 

His views of taking care of horses are, 
however, entirely from the standpoint of 
the horsema7z^ and in other parts of his 
book, I notice that he does not always 
carry his deductions from the observed 
facts to their logical conclusions. In his 
chapter on the construction of stables, 
and elsewhere, he falls into the common 
error of thinking and acting as if the 
horse might be injured by too much fresh 
air, and therefore, in many places, gives 
directions about wrapping him up and 
regulating the amount of ventilation per- 
missible. 

Not fully appreciating the principles of 
physiology and 7tatural history involved 



34 

that should govern in this matter, he is 
prone to be misled by his own subjectivi- 
ties, and perhaps an unconscious tradi- 
tional bias, and therefore too often ignores 
what he sees and records as objective facts, 
in favor of some unscientific fancies. 

I have, however, quoted his facts and 
observations freely, because these accord 
with my own experience, and as adding 
very valuable testimony on this subject; 
nor can it be said that there is anything 
like novelty in these views. The same 
thing has been enlarged upon by many 
writers on this subject, and for many 
years. Among others, the Rev. Mr. 
Murray, and the Hon. Geo. B. Loring, 
both largely experienced in stock raising, 
have urged the great importance of free 



35 

ventilation, in a published work — The 
Perfect Horse, by William H. Murray, 
Boston, 1873 — but so far as I have ob- 
served, this insistance has always been 
expressed in general terms, and not in 
any definite manner. Now, ventilation 
means something, or nothing, according 
to the views of the individual in regard 
to it. Many think that airing a stable 
once or twice a day is the thing, others 
that knot holes and cracks are quite suffi- 
cient. It is exceedingly common even 
among those that urge the vital impor- 
tance of ventilation, to close windows and 
doors at night, or during inclement 
weather. This is not my conception of 
the ventilation requisite for the horse. 
An apt, and I may say, an accidental, illu- 



36 

stration of the amount of exposure to tlie 
weather, horses will bear, without injury 
not only, but with every sign of benefit, 
is given in the book above referred to. 
In speaking at great length and with 
much enthusiasm of the Justin Morgan 
horse — the progenitor of the family of 
Morgan horses of New England — he de- 
scribes him as unsurpassed in beauty, 
strength and endurance, and especially, 
in the valuable power of reproducing in 
his offspring his own characteristics. In 
this book is given a letter from Solomon 
Steele, Esq., of Derby, Vermont, bearing 
date, March 12th, 1856. Mr. Steele 
speaks of this horse from his own personal 
knowledge, knowing the horse well and 
being quite familiar with his histor}^ 



37 

After stating many instances of his won- 
derful qualities, lie refers to his death. 
His story I will give in his own words, 
(page 317). '^ At twenty-nine years of age, 
no cause need be assigned for his death, 
but the ravages of time and the usual in- 
firmities of years. But old age was not 
the immediate cause of his death. He 
was not stabled, but was running loose in 
an open yard with other horses, and 
received a kick from one of them in the 
flank. Exposed without shelter to the 
inclemency of a northern winter, inflamma- 
tion set in, and he died. Before receiving 
the hurt which caused his death, he was 
perfectly sound and entirely free from any 
description of blemish. His limbs were 
perfectly smooth, clean, free from any 



38 

swelling, and perfectly limber and supple. 
Ttose persons who saw him in 1819 and 
1820, describe his appearance as remarka- 
bly fresh and youthful. Age had not 
quenched his spirit nor damped the ardor 
of his temper. Years of severest labor 
had not sapped his vigor nor broken his 
constitution, his eye was still bright, his 
step firm and elastic." I was first inclined 
to italicise the words ^'he was not stabled," 
but it seemed to me, that if italics were 
required there, they would quite as well 
be required for the whole quotation. How- 
ever this may be, the quotation shows, 
that he was kept "with other horses" out 
of doors, during the winter in Vermont, 
where zero weather is a frequent occur- 
rence, and we may not unreasonabl}^ ask, if 



39 

lie lived out doors, exposed without shelter 
to all kinds of weather for twenty-nine 
years, and kept in such excellent condi- 
tion, would shelter have saved his life 
when he received the hurt that resulted in 
his death, or, if he had been kept in sta- 
bles instead of out doors for twenty-nine 
years, would he have been the same won- 
derful horse described. A severe kick in 
the flank would be very likely to be fatal 
under any circumstances, but his lifelong 
exposure to the weather seems not to have 
impaired in anyway his health or strength, 
and may it not rather be justly credited 
with the maintenance of both. Nor do I 
think that I have here made any unfair 
or strained inference, in holding, if he 
was kept '' running loose in an open yard 



40 

with other horses" during this particular 
winter, when he had reached his highest 
reputation and value, that he was not the 
recipient of any greater care at any pre- 
vious time, and if not stabled then, he was 
a stranger to a stable always. It would 
certainly be quite natural to give, not less, 
but indeed extra care to a very valuable 
stallion that has passed his 29th year. As 
stated above, one of the peculiar character- 
istics of this horse was his power to stamp 
his own individuality on his ofF-spring; 
indeed his value was not recognized until 
his colts were found so markedly superior. 
In the earlier part of his career he was 
sold at various times for about a hundred 
dollars, and at one time was hired for 
fifteen dollars per year to a man by the 



41 

name of Evans, who used him in his con- 
tracts for clearing timber land — dragging 
off the logs by hitching him to them — 
and doing all the hard and straining 
labor incident to this rough work; but 
the fine quality of his colts soon began to 
attract attention, and as he advanced in 
years he advanced in value, and in his old 
age had so much appreciated that he was 
finally held at five hundred dollars, a large 
price for the time and locality. This 
quality of marking his colts has its 
parallel in the Arabian stallions, which 
have been so highly esteemed in improv- 
ing the breed of English and other horses. 
Now it will be noticed that in both cases 
the animals were not stabled. In the case 
of the Arabian horse, on account of the 



42 

warmness of tlie climate; in the Morgan 
horse of Vermont, from carelessness, or 
thoughtlessness, or poverty, or all these 
combined. At any rate, it seems to have 
been the common method of keeping 
horses at that time in Vermont, (and in 
this they were right, as often happens by 
accident). Of course this principle here 
merely hinted at, applies to the mare as well 
as to the stallion. The animal that has 
the most perfect cells will predominate in 
the off-spring. And here we might look 
with much show of reason for an explana- 
of the disappointment many breeders have 
experienced in the unexpected character, or 
rather lack of character, in a given foal. 
But to resume. 

It is very well known that the young 



43 

horses that are brought from the west, for 
the eastern market are kept out of doors 
constantly, in all seasons of the year, 
without shelter, except perhaps, in some 
cases an open shed for protection against 
the worst storms, and they come east 
in excellent condition, clean limbed, 
supple and healthy. But very soon after 
their arrival they are put in warm, close 
stables, and they suffer from sickness, and 
this is called getting acclimated, when the 
truth is, they get sick simply because 
deprived of the pure air that is essential 
to their vigor and health. I do not deny 
that horses will become gradually accus- 
tomed to the closeness of a stable, but 
they do so at great loss to many of their 
best natural qualities, and at the risk of 



44 

severe and often fatal sickness. I would 
certainly not risk a valuable horse in a 
close stable for a single night. 

It matters not whether the air is hot, as 
in our summers, or cold, as in our winters : 
they equally enjoy it, and thrive only 
when the air is pure and fresh. Horses 
that die in snow storms on the plains, die 
of hunger, not from cold. Coldness, or 
heat, is of the smallest consequence, and 
although they cannot live wild where 
their natural foods are not always obtaina- 
ble, they can be, and are, domesticated 
almost everywhere — in Russia and Siberia, 
with a winter temperature in which mer- 
cury freezes, and equally well in North 
Africa, from Egypt to Morocco, with their 
constant torrid heats, and sweltering 



45 

winds — 3^et everywhere freshness is essen- 
tial ; and when domesticated in these tropi- 
cal regions, as they have been for many 
thousands of years, they were exempt 
from being stabled, because the climate 
being so constantly warm, gave no excuse 
for the dread that they might be injured 
by the cold, and thus saved them from 
man's misguided kindness; so that here 
in North Africa, and also in Arabia, they 
enjoyed their natural condition of being 
constantly in the open air, and these 
Arabian and Moorish horses, consequently, 
I think, had for a long period the reputa- 
tion of being the best horses in the world. 
We may observe this process going on at 
the various ranches of California at the 
present time, where great gain in speed 



46 

and power has been readied, and mostly 
attributed to selection and breeding, with 
little thougbt as to the climate, obviating 
the fancied necessity for warm stables. 
Dryness, or dampness, counts little. A 
horse will be perfectly well in a damp, 
dewy meadow, when kept there night and 
day, and in all kinds of weather. If 
dampness were injurious, why is he so 
constantly seen to thrive outdoors, en- 
veloped for long periods in a down-east-fog, 
or an Irish drizzle. Of course, he would 
be injured if kept in a close damp stable, 
as he would in a close dry one, or a close 
warm one, or a close cold one. It is not 
the humidity or the temperature that is 
at fault, but the impure deoxidized air, 
the unavoidable attendant upon closeness. 



47 

We might remark here, somewhat paren- 
thetically, that to speak of a dry, close 
stable with a horse in it, is simply an 
absurdity, the air will necessarily become 
saturated with moisture from the vapor of 
the breath and body, and the excretions of 
the animal. Dampness is nothing. Fresh- 
ness is everything. 

And now let us inquire why this fresh- 
ness is so essential. 

When the blood has been distributed to 
the various parts of the body by the 
arteries, and has served its purpose of 
nourishing the tissues, it is picked up by 
the venous capillaries, and carried back 
by the veins to the heart for redistribution. 
It is now forced to go through a process 
of purification, before re-entering the 



48 

arteries. It comes back to the heart, 
purple in color, loaded with carbon waste, 
and the effete remains of the growth and 
decay of cells. Not one drop of that blood is 
allowed to enter the arteries again until 
it has passed through the lungs and been 
exposed freely to fresh air. Not only 
this, but the fluid contents of all the 
lymphatics, and of all the lacteals, with 
their loads of emulsed fat, and the new 
material from the stomach and liver diges- 
tion, are all mixed with the blood in the 
veins, on its way to the lungs. Nature 
emphasizes this process in a marked de- 
gree. Only a portion of the blood is sent 
with each pulse-beat to the kidneys for 
purification, and yet this purification is 
essential to life. But in the case of the 



49 

lung circulation, every drop must go — 
uew material and old material — all must 
receive the vivifying effect of fresh air. 
Here in the lungs the blood is quickly 
changed from purple to scarlet. The 
carbon wastes seize upon the oxygen of 
the air, and are burned up, throwing off, 
as the result, chiefly carbonic acid gas, 
just as a stove sets off carbonic acid gas 
by the burning of coal, the stomach fur- 
nishing the fuel, and the lungs supplying 
the draft — and all animal life hangs on 
this process. Various volatile substances 
are at the same time got rid of, which 
give more or less odor to the breath, and 
these, with certain organic vapors that 
have recently been shown to have great 
virulence, and the carbonic acid, are ex- 



50 

Haled by the animal with every breath. 
Now the result of this combustion of 
material by the lungs is, as in the stove, 
productive of heat, and here we find the 
great source of animal heat — that is to 
say, this is the chief place for the entrance 
of oxygen and the exit of carbonic acid, 
whether we speak of heat production here, 
for the sake of simplicity, or trace it to 
the ultimate cells, for scientific accuracy. 
Every time the animal takes in a breath 
of air it consumes a portion of the oxygen 
of the air in making heat and nerve force, 
and as this process goes on ten or fifteen 
times a minute, the air in a circumscribed 
space, as in a close room or stable, becomes 
rapidly exhausted of oxygen and over- 
loaded with carbonic acid and other im- 



51 

purities, and less and less fit to carry on 
the vital processes. New oxygen must 
be supplied, and the carbonic acid, etc., be 
blown away. If it is not supplied, as in 
the case of a close stable, the purple, im- 
pure venous blood, coming to the lungs, 
finds an inadequate supply of oxygen, and 
the changes so essential to life are only 
partially effected. The waste is not all 
oxydized, or suf&ciently oxydized and 
eliminated, and consequently, we have 
loss of animal heat and power not only, 
but the retained tissue waste is carried 
back by the arteries to the tissues, in spite 
of nature's care to prevent it, and acts as 
a poison to the whole body. 

Nature, truly, seems to set up certain 
vicarious actions to partially remedy the 



52 

defect, but is handicapped in its efforts. 
It sets the kidneys to do extra work, and 
the urine becomes loaded, and the kidneys 
and bladder may suffer damage for trying 
to do what should have been done in the 
lungs. The skin takes on extra duty, 
and we have excessive sweating; and 
various scaly, itching, and unsightly erup- 
tions make their appearance. 

The retained and poisonous tissue 
wastes affect the muscles, and stiffness of 
the shoulder manifests itself, or weakness 
of the back, or muscular defect some- 
where. The hoofs become slowly im- 
paired and lose their toughness, and 
become brittle and weak. The nervous 
system suffers, and the animal loses 
vivacity, vigor, and endurance. Touching 



53 

the brain, you have the temporary delir- 
ium, known as ^^ blind staggers." Affect- 
ing the co-ordinating centres, you have 
stumbling and " string-halt." Settling 
upon the digestive tract, ^'crib biting," 
and ^'wind sucking" and colic appear. 
Affecting the ligamentous and bony parts, 
^'spavin" and '^ splint" result, and in the 
eye all those changes of nutrition which 
result in partial or complete blindness. 
So, too, the lack of oxygen in the blood 
causes irritation of the kidneys and blad- 
der, because the waste excreted by them 
is not sufficiently oxydized, and conse- 
quently is deficient in solubility. This 
often causes difficult and painful urina- 
tion, to the extent sometimes of complete 
retention and so-called '* bladder colic." 



54 

In mares, the irritating quality of the 
urine shows itself by a frequent and dis- 
agreeable ejaculatory micturition, gener- 
ally attributed to the animal being '4n 
heat," when it is really suffering from 
irritability and soreness of the urethra 
and neck of the bladder, from this gritty 
or loaded condition of the urine. I think 
it is not too much to say that about 98 
per cent, of the disabilities to which horses 
are at present liable are traceable to defi- 
cient oxidation of the tissues, caused by 
withholding the supply of fresh air which 
their nature requires. This is fully cor- 
roborated by the reports of both English 
and French authorities. Rossignol states 
as to the French cavalry horses, ''that 
previous to 1836 the mortality was as 



55 

higli as a hundred and ninety-seven 
per thousand * * * j^^t in 1866 
this was reduced by improved ventilation 
to twenty-seven and a half per thousand.'^ 
^^In the Italian war of 1859, M. Moulin, 
the chief veterinary surgeon, kept ten 
thousand horses many months in bar- 
racks open to the external air, in place of 
closed stables. Scarcely any horses were 
sick." Wilkinson (English) says, "the 
annual mortality of cavalry horses — which 
was formerly very great — is now reduced 
to twenty per thousand, of which one-half 
is from accidents and incurable diseases." 
So that the estimate I have given is rather 
under the truth, and instead of ninety- 
eight, I might have said ninety-nine per 
cent, without the least exaggeration. 



56 

When a horse is violently exercised, all 
the tissue changes are accelerated. The 
heart beats quicker. The breathing is 
hurried. Why? Because there is more 
waste tissue to be disposed of. The blood 
rushes to the lungs for more oxygen, and 
the lungs hurry the breathing to meet 
the demand. 

If the horse is in good condition, the 
blood well oxydized, and the cells of the 
various tissues thoroughly healthy, as in a 
horse that has been liberally supplied 
with fresh air, the blood rapidly takes up 
the oxygen, the extra waste caused by 
the exercise is thrown off and exhaled as 
carbonic acid gas, and becomes harmless. 

These increased tissue changes evolve 
not only nerve energy or force, but extra 



57 

lieat is generated by the accelerated com- 
bustion, and of course warms up the body, 
and, as the organism would be seriously 
damaged if the temperature rose much 
above 99 degrees, the automatic mechanism 
that regulates the temperature causes an 
increased action of the sweat glands of the 
skin, and the coat of the animal becomes 
wet with perspiration, or merely moist- 
ened, in proportion to the violence of the 
exercise and the state of the weather ; and 
the evaporation of this perspiration cools 
down the body and keeps it at the normal 
temperature, and no harm to the animal 
results. 

But if the horse has been deprived of 
his full allowance of air by a period of 
close stabling, and his blood is only par- 



58 

tially oxydized when this fresh rush of 
tissue waste is poured into the blood, the 
lungs become congested, because they are 
behind their work, and cannot dispose of 
the extra load put upon them, and it is 
not an uncommon occurrence for such 
horses to die from this lung congestion in 
a short time, or from a resultant pneumo- 
nia, and if they recover at all, they are a 
long time in bad condition, to the great 
loss and inconvenience of the owner. 

I have here given the common beliefs 
as to the cause of death in these cases, 
rather than my own impressions. I be- 
lieve these horses die from the effect of 
certain blood poisons, produced or re- 
tained in the blood because of the lack 
of oxygen, and among them we would 



59 

certainly find a dangerous excess of car- 
bonic acid gas, and possibly, the genera- 
tion of more or less carbon monoxide — 
whicli is about as fatal to animal life as 
prussic acid — acting according to Ferrier 
^'by paralyzing tbe blood corpuscles, as 
Bernard expresses it, and rendering them 
unable to take up oxygen. Hence, in- 
ternal respiration is prevented, and death 
ensues from asphyxia." This principle 
of autoinfection, which has arrested the 
attention of the medical profession of 
late years, is well illustrated in these 
cases. 

Even if the horse escapes these imme- 
diate dangers, the increased waste, chiefly 
of the muscles, caused by the severe exer- 
cise, increases the demand for oxygen^ 



6o 

and if he is taken back to his accustomed 
close stable, where the supply of oxygen 
is insufficient, his embarrassment is very 
much aggravated, and the blood becomes 
more loaded than before with these re- 
tained materials, which, floating in the 
blood current, act, as I said before, as 
poisons to the tissues, especially to the 
muscles, which are supplied with an enor- 
mous amount of blood, and therefore are 
much more exposed to the action of these 
poisons ; and the muscles, being the mo- 
live power of the animal, — his electric 
motors, so to speak, — are among the first 
of the organs to show that they suffer; 
and it is after violent and continued exer- 
cise that, in horses kept as described, we 
often have an acute or sudden attack of 



6i 

muscular breakdown, commonly called 
" founder," ^' chest founder," etc. 

Now it can be seen readily, I tbink, 
that a borse in tbe condition above de- 
scribed would have had a much better 
chance to recover if, instead of being 
closely stabled after the exercise, he had 
been left for hours in the open air. That 
might have given him the necessary oxy- 
gen to dispose of his extra load of waste. 

If, however, the amount of poison in 
the blood is not sufficient to produce the 
sudden or explosive action just spoken of, 
— and these extreme results are oftenest 
seen in horses not constantly used, — if 
the animal is worked about every day, 
and closely confined when at rest, nature 
seems gradually to get accustomed to 



62 

these morbid conditions, and you have a 
slow, progressive paresis, or atrophy of 
some, or we might say many, of the volun- 
tary muscles, going under the general 
name among stablemen of '^ sweeny," and 
the horse slowly becomes stiff and awk- 
ward in some of his movements, and finally 
shrunken, ungainly, ewe -necked, sway- 
backed, or in some way distorted. 

He loses his free and expansive muscu- 
lar movements as well as his graceful 
lines, because his muscles have lost their 
elasticity, and power, and plumpness ; and 
then you have a miserable-looking, clumsy 
and deformed animal, called in some places 
" an old plug," or '^ skate," or the like ; 
such as you sometimes see in front of an 
ash or garbage cart. Fortunately, very 



63 

many of these horses die long before 
reaching this stage of degeneration. 

In speaking of the automatic action 
of the heat regulators, alluded to be- 
fore, it might be as well to digress a 
little, and inquire as to the propriety of 
warmly blanketing horses after severe 
exercise. What is the condition of a 
healty animal that comes in reeking with 
sweat? It is certain that his body has 
been extremely heated, as shown by his 
sweating. What will happen if he is 
allowed to stand in the open air? The 
horse is still panting, which shows that 
he is hurrying the combustion of his tis- 
sue ; the heart is beating quickly, to send 
the blood quickly to the lungs, to have its 
burden of waste products disposed of, and 



64 

consequently, lie is thereby still making 
an additional amount of heat. If allowed 
to stand in the open air, the extra heat 
being generated will quickly dry the coat, 
and as the heat subsides, the hair will rise 
slowly, if the air is cool or cold, and thus 
prevent the too rapid dissipation of the 
heat, and the animal resumes his condi- 
tion as before. 

But covering a horse with a blanket 
when hot and sweating checks the escape 
of the vapor driven off by the heat of the 
body, and thus retards the drying process 
and the retention of the moisture, and the 
dampness of the blanket will, if the weather 
is cold, cause shivering as the heat of the 
body gradually subsides ; and it also 
partly prevents the rising of the coat. 



65 

thus thwarting the very processes of 
nature set up for the protection of the 
animal. 

What is true of the ordinary blanket is 
more than true of the gum-blanket. The 
gum-blanket is an abomination. It may 
possibly sometimes protect the harness, 
but always hurts the horse. 

The self-regulating heat-apparatus will 
bear some consideration, and it may as 
well be spoken of in this connection. 

When the air is mild the coat will re- 
main smooth. If the air becomes cooler, 
the coat will rise just in proportion to the 
change of temperature, and becomes loose 
and fluffy in the cold. This, practically, 
thickens the coat and makes it warmer. 
If, however, a horse suffers from cold 



66 

whicli tlie rising of the coat is not ade- 
quate to relieve, another automatic opera- 
tion is set to work, and he begins to 
shiver; that is, the muscles that move 
the skin, and whose common use is to 
shake off insects that annoy the animal, 
are set in motion all over the body, and 
this adds to the heat production by in- 
creasing the waste of tissue, just as the 
exercise of the muscles of locomotion have 
that effect when the animal is at work. 
A healthy horse will rarely, if ever, shiver 
in the open air. Shivering generally 
indicates a sick horse or one that has 
been or is being semi-suffocated by close 
stabling. 

Now, if the air becomes warmer, or the 
horse is exercised, the coat will slowly 



67 

fall. Thus, when it is necessary to keep 
in and preserve the heat, the coat rises, and 
practically becomes thicker, just enough 
to preserve the proper equilibrium of 
temperature, not allowing it to fall much 
below 99 degrees ; and, when it is neces- 
sary to increase the heat dissipation, the 
coat falls, or slowly becomes moist, just 
enough to control the temperature from 
rising above 99 degrees. 

In a healthy horse, in summer, a reverse 
action may be observed. If the animal is 
standing or moving slowly in the hot sun, 
the hair will be seen to rise, to shut off 
the effect of the sun and to preserve the 
skin from being too much heated. Here 
the coat is practically thickened, to keep 
the sun from injuring the skin — to keep 



68 

the heat out — just as in winter the coat 
rises to keep the heat in. 

I have often noticed the rising of the 
summer coat in the hot sunshine. It puts 
on the appearance of cut velvet. The 
farmers say the horse raises his coat to 
keep off the flies. This, however, may 
not be noticeable in horses closely stabled, 
because their skins rarely become dry 
enough to produce it. 

If, however, when the summer coat is 
up against the sun's rays, you quicken 
his motion, and consequently his internal 
fires, down will go his coat, and moisture 
will begin to appear. He is now cooling 
himself, by the process of evaporation, 
just as he does with his winter coat, in 
cold weather, when exercised. 



69 

We liave been considering the condition 
of a horse just brought in after severe 
exercise. Shall he be closely stabled and 
blanketed? I have tried to show that 
this is not good practice. Scarcely any 
one would think of throwing him a mess 
of grain immediately. Yet there is a 
physiological reason for this, which it 
might be well to consider. When a horse 
is brought in hot and sweating, we have 
shown that this condition is owing to the 
rapid combustion of his tissue. He has 
now all he wants to do in replenishing his 
store of oxygen and blowing out his sur- 
plus carbonic acid until he cools off by 
the evaporation of the wetting Nature has 
given him and the gradual subsidence of 
his internal fires. If we now give him a 



70 

mess of grain, we are adding fresh fuel to 
the fires, as the newly digested grain is 
poured into the blood, thus seriously in- 
creasing the already urgent demand for 
oxygen. 

These views are perfectly in accordance 
with the ordinary practice of horsemen in 
this particular. It should not go unno- 
ticed that a horse that has been over- 
driven, and is very much exhausted by 
excessive work, will not eat, even when 
his food is placed before him. Thus his 
nature protects him from injuring him- 
self, by taking away his desire for food at 
the time when to eat would be hurtful. 

For obvious reasons it might be inferred 
that feeding too early in these cases would 
be more likely to be injurious in hot than 



71 

in cold weather and in a closed stable 
than outdoors. 

Of course, the diversion of blood from 
the digestive organs to the muscles is 
worth considering, but this would apply 
to work after feeding as well as to feeding 
after work, and the effect would be chiefly 
referable to the stomach and digestive 
tract. 

Whether the withholding of water is of 
so much importance, I am not prepared 
to say. There seems to be some difference 
of opinion on that subject. It is probably 
safer to err on the side of care. Yet the 
loss of water, by the sweating of the ani- 
mal, would seem to indicate that the loss 
should be made good, and his thirst will 
always induce him to drink. If the water 



72 

was warmed, it could not do harm, and 
might be of great advantage, by increasing 
the fluidity of the blood. The practice in 
regard to this seems to vary in different 
localities, and experience ought to settle the 
question. That of our "cowboys" would 
be of value on this point. It is a common 
practice, however, of many owners of 
horses in the South and West to ride 
their horses until they are reeking with 
sweat, let them drink when they please, 
and leave them in the open air, without 
protection of any kind. But these horses, 
if stabled at all, are kept in stables about 
as fresh as outdoors. 

This question can only be settled 
satisfactorily by experience with horses 
that have not been closely confined in 



73 

stables, because horses that have been de- 
prived of their full allowance of air for 
any considerable time are in a pathologi- 
cal condition^ and what would obtain with 
them could not be predicated of horses 
in perfect health. And this will apply 
to all our past experiences with horses. 
Horsemen, and veterinarians, and farriers, 
and grooms, all alike, have learned, per- 
sonally, or by tradition, everything they 
know about horses, from the taking care 
only of those that are all really more or 
less out of condition from partial suffoca- 
tion by close confinement ; and, because 
it has been noticed that such animals often 
become stiffened or lame, or get a cough, 
or a colic, after drinking or feeding, or 
exposures to drafts of air, when heated by 



74 

exercise, they have formulated a set of 
rules whicli may very well apply to ani- 
mals so kept, but would have no applica- 
tion whatever to the same animals under 
normal conditions ; and thus we hear of 
grain founder, and water founder, and air 
founder, as the results of such and such 
alleged causes, all occurring, however, in 
horses that have been very carefully kept ; 
while at the same time men who are 
deemed careless, and let their horses run 
wild, and take their chances, are little, if 
at all, troubled in this way. This is gen- 
erally explained as a matter of accident, 
or passed over as a *' fool for luck " case ; 
and really these reckless fellows who are 
always in luck could not give any better 
explanation themselves. So that we have 



75 

to begin at the very beginning and slowly 
learn wbat management the horse requires 
when kept as nature keeps him — in the 
open or its equivalent, — and I think it 
will be very soon apparent that our past 
accumulated knowledge is no knowledge 
at all, because in forming opinions as to 
the causes and cures and preventives of 
his various ailments, we have overlooked 
by far the most important factor of all, 
namely, the taking him out of his natural 
environment and forcing him to live as 
nature never intended him to live. It is 
said that Lord Palmerston once remarked 
that " The best thing for the inside of a 
man is the outside of a horse." However 
this may be as a matter of personal ex- 
perience, it is a fact, easily demonstrated, 



76 

til at the best thing for the inside of a horse 
is the outside of a stable. 

I have spoken of the automatic arrange- 
ment for regulating and maintaining a 
normal temperature existing in a healthy 
horse. When horses have been too closely 
stabled the delicacy of this mechanism is 
impaired. Their skins seem to be unnatu- 
rally wet, and the perspiration oozes out 
on the slightest exertion, and when in 
their summer coats a very short drive will 
give them the appearance of being var- 
nished. This is looked upon by many as 
a marvel of skillful grooming. It is sim- 
ply a pathological condition — a sort of 
colliquative sweat. This condition, in- 
deed, seems very closely allied to the ex- 
cessive sweating that occurs in phthisis — 



77 

consumption of the lungs — in man, where 
from the diseased and disorganized state of 
the lungs the entrance and absorption of 
oxygen and discharge of carbonic acid is 
necessarily interfered with. When in win- 
ter coat it causes so much inconvenience 
that it has induced a practice, now quite 
general, of clipping or singeing — removing 
the winter coat entirely, — and this seems 
to be necessary, and even advantageous, 
under these circumstances. 

But this whole trouble — this inordinate 
sweating, this '4eaky skin'' — is produced 
by the poisonous action of the retained 
tissue waste, caused by the deprivation of 
oxygen acting, probably , through the vaso- 
motor nerves, deranging the delicate ad- 
justments so essential to health. 



78 

It might not be out of place to mention, 
also, that a close hot stable will cause a 
horse to lose his winter coat prematurely, 
and he will begin to abort his hair some- 
times as early as the middle of January, 
and by constant rubbing, it will be pretty 
well off by the first of March, and he will 
be very imperfectly protected from the 
subsequent cold weather, and his summer 
coat will not be so fine as it otherwise 
would be. 

In this climate the coat should not be- 
gin to loosen much before the 2ist of 
March, and he will not be in complete 
summer dress until near the loth of June. 
He will generally begin to shed pretty 
freely by the ist of April, and this will 
go on, subject to checks by cold snaps, 



79 

the coat becoming gradually ligHter, until 
its disappearance in the early summer. 
This seems, however, to be influenced 
considerably by the grooming and the 
feeding. 

The same close stabling causes the 
growth of the so-called " cat-hairs " in the 
coat, some of the hair follicles becoming 
hypertrophied by the constant irritation 
of the skin. These never show themselves 
in a perfectly fresh stable. 

I wish here to call attention to a fact 
which is a matter of common observation. 

It has often been noticed that horses will 
shiver in a close stable in cold weather, espe- 
cially in the morning after the animals have 
been shut up all night, gradually abstract- 
ing the oxygen from the air and replac- 



8o 

ing it with carbonic acid. The thing that 
naturally suggests itself to the keeper is a 
blanket, and I have known at least three 
blankets to be applied, and the animal 
would still shiver. The next thing that 
occurs to the groom is to shut out the cold 
and make the animal comfortable by stop- 
ping, with the most religious care and 
solicitude, every crack and opening that 
might possibly admit any cold air from 
without. Now, paradoxical as it may at 
first appear, this shivering is produced by 
the closeness of the stable, and if the ani- 
mal is taken outdoors, or the stable suffi- 
ciently opened, this shivering will in a 
short time cease. It will be remembered, 
as has been stated before, that the great 
source of animal heat is the oxidation of 



8i 

the tissues. If the animal is kept in an 
enclosure where the oxygen supply is 
deficient, he cannot burn his fuel well, 
and therefore cannot keep up his heat ; 
he is cooling down too much because his 
fires are burning low. If you cut off the 
supply of material to be burned, as in 
starving animals, they will shiver too. It 
makes no difference, as to the production 
of animal heat, whether you give insuffi- 
cient food or insufficient oxygen. The 
result as to heat production will be the 
same, just as in a stove you get similar 
results from using little fuel or shutting 
off the draft. In other words, you get the 
same objective symptom of shivering, 
whether you starve the animal by with- 
holding food or withholding oxygen. 



82 

And we sHould not permit ourselves to 
forget our elementary physics so far as to 
lose sight of the fact that a cubic foot of 
air at zero contains much more oxygen 
than a cubic foot of warm air. Thus na- 
ture makes up for the low temperature by 
an increase of the heat-producing oxygen, 
just in proportion to the needs of the ani- 
mal, and any attempt to warm the breath- 
ing air artificially — worst of all, by closing 
doors and windows — is plainly doing what 
is most desirable to avoid. We lose the 
benefits of the fresh cold air, which invigo- 
rates not only or chiefly because of its 
coldness, but because it is rich in oxygen 
as a consequence of its being cold. 

Air is dilated one part in 491 of its 
volume for every degree of Fahrenheit. 



83 

Estimating the amount of oxygen in 491 
cubic incHes of air at 100° — extreme sum- 
mer temperature, — the same amount will 
be represented in 391 cubic inches at zero. 
Thus an animal breathing the air of cold 
winter weather gets about twenty per cent, 
more oxygen than during the extreme 
heats of summer. And it is a fact worthy 
of notice that a horse out of condition in 
any way will improve much more rapidly 
in a given time exposed to the cold fresh 
air of winter than in warm weather, for 
the plain reason that the increased sup- 
ply of oxygen in the condensed cold air 
quickens all the tissue changes ; that is, 
builds up and pulls down the materials of 
the body faster — in other words, expedites 
the process of growth and decay, which is 



84 

the very essence of vitality. The experi- 
ence of Lieutenant Peary on the ice-cap of 
Greenland plainly points in the same di- 
rection. Encountering a violent blizzard 
at the outset of the expedition, snow huts, 
or "igloos," were built, in which the party 
"crept" for protection from the violence 
of the winds and the painful cutting of 
the ice-sand "into the faces of the advanc- 
ing column," which they found almost 
unendurable, but they suffered so much 
more from cold during their confinement 
in these huts that they were glad to aban- 
don them. "The experience with igloos 
had proved so disagreeable, they were 
found so cold and occupied so much time 
in building, that on the later marches they 
were entirely dispensed with." (In Arc- 



85 

tic Seas, Philadelphia, Rufus C. Hartranft, 
1892, page 378). Now here the increased 
warmth of the shelter was more than 
counterbalanced by the unavoidable re- 
striction of the oxygen-supply. If the 
party had constructed a hut, with the lee- 
side open, or even a perpendicular wall of 
snow, they might have found some com- 
fort on its lee side, without the necessary 
loss of heat production from the dimin- 
ished amount of available oxygen incident 
to living in a tight hut ; but in these 
igloos they felt the same discomfort that 
a shivering horse feels in a close cold 
stable, and from the same cause. I will 
add right here that nothing more clearly 
or certainly gauges the sufficient freshness 
of a stable than the fact that the horses 



86 

do not shiver nor even raise their coats in 
the coldest and windiest weather. When- 
ever shivering occurs, it is an absolute 
certainty that the stable is too closely 
shut instead of being too open. This is 
one thing I have seen verified by actual 
experiment so often as to exclude the pos- 
sibility of error. 

When food supply is in excess, espec- 
ially if the amount of fresh air is limited, 
nature has a fashion of relieving the blood 
of the excess of carbonaceous material by 
storing it up as fat, and especially as sub- 
cutaneous fat, and the animal, instead of 
burning the excess or excreting it in any 
way, packs it up for future use, and in 
this way renders it harmless. 

Now this is all very well for a prize ox, 



87 

intended for the shambles or exhibition at 
a county fair; but excess of fat is an 
encumbrance to the horse, by its added 
weight not only, but a heavy layer of fat 
under the skin, by its non-conducting 
properties, keeps in the animal heat, and 
in one that is driven rapidly is a serious 
impediment, and requires a more profuse 
perspiration to preserve the equilibrium 
of temperature. All practical horsemen 
know this, and avoid driving a very fat 
animal at a rapid rate. Horses used for 
racing are ''trained down" by active exer- 
cise to prevent this accumulation, and 
instead of fatness we have force. Some 
persons take great pride in having their 
horses look fat, and smooth, and plump; 
and this is all very well for those who 



88 

like it and are satisfied with a three or 
four-mile-an-hour gait, but it will not do 
for rapid travelling. It will answer for a 
mill horse or a brewer's team, but not for 
a roadster, or a trotter, or a hunter. 

Nevertheless it is well to discriminate 
between plumpness, the effect of excess of 
fat, and plumpness produced chiefly by 
nicely rounded and fully developed muscles. 
The latter is always desirable, and gives 
beauty, strength and power, while fatness 
gives neither, a fact that some people seem 
to have overlooked. 

If the food supply instead of being in 
excess, is diminished below the require- 
ments of the animal, what follows ? Nature 
then begins to draw upon the laid-up-fat 
to help in maintaining force and heat, and 



89 

tie animal soon loses its plumpness and 
roundness of form, and becomes thin and 
angular, showing its ribs and bony frame- 
work generally. When the fat is largely 
consumed the muscular tissue is — directly 
or indirectly — slowly sacrificed in keeping 
up heat and power, and consequently, 
movement and locomotion become gradu- 
ally enfeebled, and he is spoken of as thin 
and weak ; if running wild, and he can 
get nothing else to eat, he will have re- 
course to the bark and limbs of trees ; if 
stabled, he will eat up his manger. He 
makes a struggle for life, and to preserve 
it, uses up every available material except 
his brain and nervous system ; these must 
be kept in reserve to the very last. If he 
is now exposed to severe cold, he will very 



90 

likely die. He has been getting enougli 
oxygen, but bis coal-bins are about empty 
— he has burnt up much of his furniture, 
and his fires are in danger of going out 
for want of fuel. You may call this freez- 
ing or starving, just as you please. But 
starvation is dying from cold. 

I think I have now shown sufficiently 
how civilization, or at least our civiliza- 
tion, causes the infirm condition of our 
horses, and how it necessitates the use of 
shoes, because horses kept as our horses 
are commonly kept cannot be driven 
without shoes. The hoof will not get 
used to it, and every trial of this kind will 
result in failure. 

But if we consider the subject carefully, 
we must see that all peoples who use their 



91 

horses without shoes have one thing in 
common, and only one thing, and it is 
this : that none of them have stables. 

There is no exception to this rule. 
Therefore, if we wish to dispense with 
»shoes, we must dispense with stables. But 
it is next to impossible to dispense with 
stables — absolutely so in cities and towns. 

A stable, then, must be looked upon as 
a necessary evil, and our aim should be 
to minimize the evil, or, if possible, elim- 
inate it entirely. The evil is in the re- 
stricted supply of oxygen, and this can 
only be corrected by making the stable as 
fresh as the pasture ground or the prairie. 
This simple procedure is the key to the here- 
tofore unexplained puzzle^ why some persons 
find shoeing necessary and others do not. 



92 

It goes without saying, that this fresh- 
ness must be kept up at night as well as 
in the day — at all times — in all seasons 
— in all kinds of weather. This may 
seem like tiresome iteration, but it is so 
essential to success that it cannot be too 
much dwelt upon, for by this means only 
can we practically restore to our captive 
animal his natural environment and bring 
back to him the conditions of perfect 
health and perfect hoofs. 

I have been experimenting in this way 
for the last five years, and I find that a 
stable can be built that will give absolutely 
the same results as are gotten by dispens- 
ing with them altogether, and the horses 
kept in such stables can be used without 
shoes, either in harness or under the saddle. 



93 

I have driven my own gig horse without 
shoes for two years — winter, spring, and 
summer, — and my saddle horse has not 
been shod in four years, although rid- 
den from March to December, over ma- 
cadam roads, boulder stone pavement, vit- 
rified brick, and country roads, and his 
hoofs are perfect. Everyone knows that 
saddle work is harder on the feet than 
work in harness, and my usual weight 
is 170 pounds. His feet wear true and 
smooth, and his hind feet keep their 
points, are nicely oval — we may say 
spoon-shaped, — his front feet are slightly 
worn at the toes, rounded a little, just as 
an iron shoe wears at this point. The 
farriers and veterinarians who have seen 
him and known how much and how long 



94 

I have used him without shoes, consider 
the result as very wonderful, and I will 
admit that the result has been something 
of a surprise to myself. 

I do not wish to assert, however, that a 
horse can certainly be driven thirty miles 
a day, every day in the week, over hard 
macadam roads, without shoes. This could 
only be known by trial. I am satisfied, 
from what I have seen, that horses moder- 
ately used, and farm-horses and those em- 
ployed on country roads or on the race 
track, can be so used with great advantage. 

But if shoes are required in some cases, 
they can be fastened to a good tough hoof 
much more readily and securely, and with 
fewer nails and less depth of penetration, 
than on a common hoof. 



95 

It is hardly necessary to recount the 
advantages of this method. Besides the 
expense and trouble of sending a horse to 
the shop to have him shod, at least a dozen 
times a year, he, of course, never ''cuts'^ 
himself^ — he is in no danger of '^ calking" 
himself, an accident so common in winter 
when sharp-shod ; he is not subject to 
^* capped elbow," he never ^'balls'' in 
snow, and he does not slip on the ice. 
This I know from personal observation. 
Neither does he slip on wet and slip- 
pery asphalt or vitrified brick, or any 
of the smooth-faced pavements of cities, 
which have been so much complained 
of by horsemen, as dangerous on ac- 
count of their extreme slipperiness in wet 
weather. 



96 

The additional weight of the shoe — 
from a half pound to two pounds on each 
foot — is also a matter of very considerable 
importance in encumbering and retarding 
the movements of the animal. This has 
been calculated and estimated, by persons 
mathematically inclined, and may be found 
in detail in various veterinary books. 

I have carefully compared the growth 
of the hoof of an animal, stabled as de- 
scribed, with that of horses brought from 
city stables and turned to pasture without 
shelter for a course of four or five months. 
If one will observe the effect on the nutri- 
tion of the hoof that occurs in a horse 
that has long been closely stabled, and is 
then turned outdoors to pasture, he will 
see that this effect can easily be recog- 



97 

nized by the naked eye. The hoof grows 
— I am speaking now of the outer shell — 
about a quarter of an inch per month, so 
that in three months three-quarters of an 
inch of new hoof will have been formed. 
It is so different that its growth can be 
followed by the eye, month by month. 
Its grain is finer, its surface smoother, it 
is much bluer in color, and it is also a 
little smaller in diameter — about one-six- 
teenth of an inch on each side. This can 
be followed in a pasture field, for about 
five months, to the closing of the pasture 
season, and is accounted for by the far- 
mers as due to the dampness of the 
ground and the dew on the pasture. But 
I have followed it through the entire year 
in a stable that is absolutely fresh, and 



98 

have compared the hoofs grown in such a 
stable with those grown in a pasture field, 
and they are absolutely identical. But 
when the horses are taken from the pas- 
ture and put back in their accustomed 
close stable, the reverse change will be 
observed. If the hoof is washed so as to 
expose its surface, the changes in the 
growth of the hoof will be quite as dis- 
tinct. Now it will be coarser, rougher, 
and less blue, or rather grayish, and a 
little larger. Five months in open pas- 
ture will give about one inch and a quar- 
ter. Seven months of close stabling will 
give one inch and three-quarters, making 
about three inches as the length of the 
hoof. It is a little more than this, but 
the difference is here practically of no 



99 

consequence. Now the last incli and 
three-quarters, of course, is grown last^ 
and therefore that will be above, and the 
inch and a quarter of good hoof, having 
grown in the pasture the summer before, 
will be below, and that you will find if the 
foot is examined in the spring. I have 
observed it in scores of farmers' horses in 
the spring, when there happened to be 
snow on the ground, which washed the 
feet in coming to town and exposed the 
grain of the hoof to view as they were 
standing on the street. It was the great 
difference in the hoof grown in the open 
air from the hoof grown in an ordinary 
stable that attracted my attention, and 
when I found I could preserve this open- 
air character, and continue its growth 



lOO 



during the whole year, I determined to 
test its strength practically, and the re- 
sult I have already stated. 

If you divide the time necessary to 
grow a new hoof from the matrix (coronet) 
to the free edge, which requires about 
twelve months, and keep the animal four 
months in the open air, and then four 
months in a closed stable, and then again 
four months in the open air, an examina- 
tion of the hoof then will show three 
bands of growth, easily distinguishable. 
At the free edge about one inch of good 
healthy strong hoof, the first grown of the 
series, then about one inch of rough, weak 
hoof, formed in the second four months, 
while in the closed stable, then about one 
inch of good hoof, extending to the matrix, 



lOI 



and grown during the time of the last 
four months, in the open. I have occa- 
sionally observed such hoofs. In obser- 
ving these changes in the character of the 
hoof, it is of course necessary that in 
altejnating between close stabling and 
open air, the transition should be sharp 
and decisive, otherwise the result will not 
be clearly defined. It is very well marked 
in the case of farmers who shut their 
horses up very closely in banked-stables 
during the winter, using them but little, 
and keeping them outdoors most of the 
time in the warmer months. If the alter- 
nations are irregular, or not pronounced, 
the result will be correspondingly con- 
fused and obscure. 

This change of nutrition extends from 



I02 

what we can see to what we cannot see. 
It would scarcely be reasonable to suppose 
that one part of the hoof — the outer shell, 
for instance — would undergo a change of 
nutrition so marked and observable with- 
out corresponding change in other parts of 
the hoof. The sole would necessarily be 
effected in the same manner and degree. 
I had an accidental illustration of this 
in my own horse while driving one day 
in February, when the weather was cold, 
and with a few inches of snow on the 
ground. I noticed that he suddenly limped 
for a few paces. As this had not occurred 
before, it attracted my attention. It passed 
off immediately, however, and I thought 
no more of it, as he travelled over the 
frozen streets without showing any dis- 



I03 

comfort, and trotted into the carriage- 
house, with its hard plank floor, without 
any sign of inconvenience. On acciden- 
tally taking up his front foot, as I was in 
the habit of doing occasionally, to my sur- 
prise I found a ten-penny cut nail which 
had entered the cleft of the frog, and was 
bent over and lying flat on the sole. On 
taking hold of it, I found it quite loose, 
but could not get it out, and the hostler 
coming up, seized it with pincers and 
pulled it out, tearing the frog somewhat 
in doing so. On examining the nail, the 
end was found bent around in the form of 
a hook, which accounted for the difi&culty 
in pulling it out, and likewise, for the 
tearing of the frog. Now this nail, which 
was a new one, must have been straight 



I04 

when it entered the frog, and could only 
have been bent by encountering the hard 
and tough laminae of the sole. When the 
point first impinged against the sole, as it 
was driven in by the blow of the foot, it 
was felt, and caused lameness for a few 
steps, but being deflected, and its point 
bent round, it could go no further, and 
the subsequent blows of the foot flattened 
it against the sole, and it caused no more 
inconvenience. The horse showed no 
lameness afterward, and I doubt if it would 
have caused any trouble had it remained. 
I have known a horse to have the sole of 
the foot penetrated, with considerable 
bleeding, by accidentally stepping on the 
sharp point of a dry lilac-stock that had 
been cut off" obliquely. What would be- 



I05 

come of wild horses if their feet were so 
vulnerable ? How long would they escape 
the wolves ? 

I will say here, in passing, that when a 
horse has grown new and healthy hoofs, 
and. has been driven without shoes some 
time, if the bottom of the hoof is inspected, 
it will be noticed that the so-called bars — 
which have been shaved out more or less 
completely, for the last hundred years, 
and for which practice the writers and 
teachers of the older veterinary colleges 
are chiefly, if not entirely, responsible — 
these bars will be seen to have grown out 
to the level of the outer shell, and are 
nothing more nor less than the inner wall 
of the heels. The shell of each quarter, 
on reaching the back part of the hoofs, 



io6 

bends round at rather a sliarp angle, and 
running forward and inward, gradually 
loses itself in the sole and forms with its 
fellow the triangular space in which the 
frog is developed. These bars have the 
same color as the outer shell, thus indi- 
cating continuity of structure. Between 
the bar and the outer shell the space is 
filled up with a greyish horny substance; 
at the sharp bend of the heel, firmly so, 
for a half inch or more, and as the space 
widens anteriorly, it is less densely packed, 
but pretty well filled up, giving a tread- 
ing surface of more than an inch wide, a 
short distance in front of the angle. The 
loose packing of the larger part of the 
tread-surface would seem to prevent this 
surface from wearing smooth and becom- 



I07 

ing slippery; it certainly does preserve its 
roughness, and necessarily gives a secure 
hold upon the roadway, and with the 
assistance of the elastic frog, which fills 
up most of the triangular space formed by 
the bars, seems to effectually prevent any 
serious slipping. 

Altogether each heel will have a ground 
surface averaging about an inch in 
breadth, by two or three in length, which 
gives perfect support to the foot, and much 
greater protection than any iron shoe can 
give, and note, that if these heels are 
seized and forcibly pushed apart, they will 
show a very perceptible yielding, thus 
giving considerable elasticity to the hoof, 
which must necessarily be restricted by a 
rigid shoe. 



io8 

Of course, I cannot go into this matter 
minutely — it properly belongs to the 
veterinary schools — but would call atten- 
tion to these facts. If this is observed 
carefully by studying the hoof in the ani- 
mal and not in the books, what I have 
pointed out can be verified by anyone. 

At the risk of a little apparent repetition, 
I wish to refer a moment to the effect of 
dryness and humidity upon the hoof. It 
will be observed that as the hoof grows 
during the winter — that is, for the five 
months from the first of November to the 
first of the following April — the coarse, 
weak hoof that is grown in the closed 
stable during that time, gradually pushes 
down before it the portion of good hoof 
that was grown during the previous sum- 



I09 

mer — that is, in July, August, September 
and October — and in the spring — that is 
to say, in April, May and June — the wear 
will be entirely on this good portion of 
the hoof. But by about the first of July 
this part of the hoof will be worn out and 
the' wear will begin on the weak winter 
growth, and this will continue during the 
rest of the summer and the following fall, 
and the difference in the strength of the 
two growths will be noticeable. This has 
given rise to the belief, which is very 
general, that the hot dry roads of this 
season of the year have caused the hoof to 
become weak and brittle, not perceiving 
that the animal is really wearing upon 
the weak growth of the previous winter, 
and its weakness and brittleness are owing 



no 



to its having been grown in a closed sta- 
ble, and not to tbe hot, dry roads. So, in 
the spring and early summer, when the 
hoof seems stronger and better, its condi- 
tion is thought to be owing to the cool- 
ness and wetness of the roads. It is 
therefore a common belief that wetness 
and moist roads are good for a horse's feet, 
not understanding that at this time the 
strong portion of the hoof grown in the 
previous summer and early fall is bearing 
the strain. 

Now, it must be apparent that dryness 
or wetness cannot be important factors as 
affecting the strength or condition of the 
hoof, else why is the hoof equally good in 
Ireland, where it is almost constantly wet 
and cool, and in Arabia, where it is almost 



Ill 



constantly dry and hot? Anyone who 
has noticed the hoofs of dead horses lying 
in the fields, not only for months, but for 
years, without any perceptible change, 
must see that wet does not soften them or 
dryness make them friable, nor even freez- 
ing cause their disintregation. The hoof 
is not hygroscopic to any appreciable ex- 
tent any more than a bull's horn. If it 
were otherwise, horses that are worked in 
water, or on mudd}^ roads, for weeks at a 
time, as they constantly are, would be 
very soon disabled, and horses that tra- 
verse the hot and sandy deserts of Arabia 
would soon have nothing of the foot left 
but a friable, broken-up mass of crumb- 
ling hoof. 

And thus we can see how futile must be 



112 



the effect of poultices and wet applica- 
tions and the various hoof ointments that 
are so much relied on to improve the tex- 
ture and condition of the hoof. They 
simply produce the effect of a temporary 
varnish, improving, perhaps, its appear- 
ance, and thus deceiving the eye without 
affecting in any way its substance. By 
this I do not mean to ignore the sedative 
effects of water to the legs, or its cooling 
effect on the foot, in case the foot becomes 
from any cause heated or inflamed; but 
that wet applications to the hoof do not 
affect the hoof proper by softening or 
modifying it in any way, and whatever 
benefit may result from standing a horse 
with hot feet in water, for instance, comes 
from the contact of the water with the 



113 

skin of the foot and leg, and from lower- 
ing the temperature of the foot by the 
conducting quality of the hoof, the hoof 
being capable of absorbing and transmit- 
ting heat, but not of absorbing water. 

r know that a horse with hard frogs 
and heels — a constant condition, if the 
animal has been long and closely stabled — 
will, if turned out to pasture for a time, 
have the elasticity of the frog and heel 
restored, and this has been attributed to 
the dampness of the ground. But the 
same thing will happen in a stable if 
the air is constantly kept as fresh as 
in the pasture field, showing that the 
air is the causative factor, and not the 
ground. 

Any change in the quality and texture 



114 

of a lioof must be eiBfected at the time of 
its growth at the matrix. 

When a layer of hoof is formed, the 
work is completed so far as the active 
vital processes are concerned. These vital 
processes are active only within the hoof, 
in the sensitive parts, not in the outer 
insensitive parts — the hoof proper, as dis- 
tinguished from the foot, — and the hoof 
becomes, and is, to all intents and pur- 
poses, an inorganic product. It is an 
eflfect of vitality, but has no vitality in 
itself, any more than a coral reef or an 
oyster shell. It has the properties of 
hardness, elasticity, toughness, and dura- 
bility. It is insensitive, and resists decay 
or change, whether on the living animal 
or removed from the foot, and its removal 



115 

makes no difference in these properties. 
You can paint it, as you could a bull's 
horn, and it would help or harm neither; 
it would only change the appearance. 
You can polish both, and engrave or or- 
nament them at pleasure, and place them 
in a parlor, and they will remain un- 
changed for a lifetime. 

It is as resistant to change as ivory or 
whalebone. Its quality depends on the 
condition of the blood of the animal at 
the time of its formation. As it was 
formed, so it remains, and it can only be 
modified by conditions that effect its nu- 
trition as it is gradually being constructed. 
Physicians constantly see illustrations of 
this in the distortions of the nails occur- 
ring in phthisis and other constitutional 



ii6 

diseases. No local applications to the 
nails are in the least curative. In some 
diseases these malformations of the nails 
can be remedied by internal medication 
acting on the nutritive processes, and by 
this means only — that is, through the 
blood. 

And now, we can truthfully say, — ^^ ex 
pede Herculem^^ — as the foot is, so is the 
horse. If, by securing and maintaining 
a perfectly healthy environment for our 
animal, we get perfect feet, all the other 
tissues of the body will share in the bet- 
terment, and the hoof becomes the result 
not only, but the index of that betterment. 

But no one must suppose that a horse 
Icept as I have described will go without 
shoes in a few weeks, or months. If used^ 



117 

lie should be kept shod for about a year, 
because it takes that length of time to 
grow an entire hoof, and he must not be 
allowed to contract "thrush," and if he is 
suffering from thrush, it must be cured, 
or otherwise his frog will be tender, and 
he will not be able to go. Of course, no 
horse should be allowed to have thrush, 
as it is produced by standing on ferment- 
ing dung, or infected stable floors, and is 
evidently microbic in its nature. It is 
therefore easily preventable, and is cured 
by a number of microbicides, such as car- 
bolic acid, sulphate of zinc, corrosive sub- 
limate, etc. But perhaps the most con- 
venient is dry calomel. 

I have spoken of this more in detail 
than I otherwise would, even trench- 



ii8 

ing a little on medication, which is rather 
the province of the veterinarian, and some- 
what foreign to the general line of thought 
we have been pursuing, because thrush is 
among the few diseases that are not de- 
pendent upon the condition of the air, but 
is due to pollution of the stall. 

Here let us observe, that the horse, one 
of the cleanliest and most fastidious of 
animals, does not seem to possess these 
traits when stabled. This plainly shows 
that he was never intended to be stabled. 
Nest-building or nest-hunting animals are 
always tidy about their sleeping places. 
Everybody must have observed that dogs 
never soil their beds, and this is true, in 
every instance, and of all such animals ; 
even the hog, that was certainly never 



119 

noted for his neatness, lias this instinct. 
But the horse is entirely indifferent to 
and exercises no care in this matter at all. 
Why ? Simply because a nest is foreign 
to his nature. When he urinates, how- 
ever, he carefully extends his legs, to 
avoid having them spattered and soiled. 
He uses care here. But when you put 
him in a stable, and force him to sleep in 
a nest, contrary to his nature, his in- 
stincts not having been educated to the 
caring for, and keeping of a nest, are at 
fault, and necessarily so in an animal 
whose home is the open plain, and who 
seldom, or never, sleeps twice in the same 
spot, but finds a fresh place to rest when- 
ever his needs require. 

In whatever direction we look, whether 



I20 



we take into view his natural history, and 
study him in his wild state, or as we find 
him among savage or semi-civilized people, 
or, as he is under our own care, observing 
his habits and his instincts, and the dis- 
eases and disabilities to which he is sub- 
ject, we cannot fail to recognize the fact 
that in his whole organization and develop- 
ment he is a free, wild, roaming child of 
the air and the uplands, without local 
habitation, gathering his food where it 
grows, seeking it wherever it may be found^ 
and migrating from place to place, as 
suits his comfort and convenience. When 
we catch him and restrain him of his 
liberty, for our own use, and teach him to 
do our bidding, we must not restrain him 
of his right to breathe his native air, and 



121 



we must also be careful to supplement his 
lack of the nest-keeping instinct by tak- 
ing care of his nest for him. 

These two things are essential to his 
well-being : clean air to breathe and a 
clean stall to stand in. 

Here let us devote a little thought to 
one of the leading differences between 
typical fresh-air animals and those of the 
burrowing class. If any burrowing ani- 
mal has endurance at speed it has not 
attracted attention. A rat cannot escape 
from a terrier except by regaining its hole. 
It cannot keep up any considerable speed, 
except for short distances ; and the same 
is true of the domestic rabbit, the beaver, 
and also the bear; and I think this will 
be found true of all animals that seek 



122 



close shelter; but the hare, or our common 
wild field rabbit, living always in the 
open, and depending as it does upon its 
speed for escape, will run miles, and test 
the strength of fleet dogs before it can be 
overtaken, in this respect closely resem- 
bling the horse or the deer. All of this 
class of animals that depend entirely upon 
speed for safety are typical out-door livers, 
and they seem to lay up and require a 
large reserve store of oxygen in the blood 
and tissues, which they cannot get unless 
constantly in the open air, and if this 
supply is restricted by forcing them to 
live in any degree like burrowing animals, 
they become to that extent degraded, and 
partly lose the peculiar chracteristics of 
their class, and while they may retain 



123 

speed for sliort distances, they suffer loss 
in staying power and of endurance at 
speed, which is the crown and glory of the 
horse, and his birthright by nature. This 
indeed is just what we have been doing 
to the horse. We have taken from him 
the most valuable of his natural traits, 
by inanely forcing him to live like a rat 
in a hole. 

If this is not true, why does nature 
keep her fast animals out doors ? 

Why does she give the instinct to keep 
in the fresh air, and avoid shelter, only to 
those animals which at the same time she 
teaches to run away from danger, and 
which alone, of all others, have the staying 
power to do so ? 

Has nature made any mistake here ? 



124 

Is this merely a matter of useless and un- 
necessary exposure, that she makes these 
fleet animals brave storm and cold without 
shelter, or is it not a plain case of cause and 
effect? Does it not clearly show that the 
one condition is essential to the other ? 

The same law seems to apply to birds 
as well as to their four-footed cousins. 

Compare the soaring and circling of the 
hawk and the eagle, for hours together on 
the wing, but roosting on the loftiest 
crag or tree-top, with the rapid but com- 
paratively short flight of the quail, the 
meadow-lark, or the partridge, which 
nestle in the grass or undergrowth. 

Observe the swallow gliding on swift 
wing in endless rounds and complex 
gyrations, but building its nest in draughty 



125 

chimneys where the air is constantly 
moving up or down with the changes of 
the weather, very different from the wab- 
bling flight of the woodpecker that exca- 
vates a nest in a decaying tree for its home. 

This appears to be a general law^ that 
the capability of rapid and sustained move- 
ment in animals is dependent upon and in 
proportion to the amount of oxygen appro- 
priated. 

To care for the horse without antago- 
nizing this law brings up for consideration 
the subject of stables. 

It is not my intention to describe, mi- 
nutely, how a stable should be built. 
The details of this must depend on vary- 
ing and varied conditions. It should^ 
however, be supplied with plenty of win- 



126 

dows, but without any glass in the sash. 
Wire screening, of about one-eighth inch 
mesh is much better, as it lets in both 
light and air, and at the same time shuts 
out the larger flies and other insects, and 
protects the horse from annoyance by 
children and other thoughtless or mali- 
cious persons, and causes the air to come 
in slowly and steadily, without much 
blowing. There should be no shutters on 
these windows, as the stablemen are sure 
to shut them on cold or stormy nights 
and in wintry weather. I say this from 
personal experience, as I was obliged to 
have them removed from my stable for 
this very reason. They should be pro- 
tected, however, by a hood, or some other 
contrivance, to keep out driving rain, or 



127 

drifting snow — not that rain or snow 
would hurt the horse, for it would not; 
but is inconvenient and unpleasant for the 
attendants and owner. How this is to be 
done is a matter for the builder or archi- 
tect to, manage. 

If, however, the air cannot be let in 
without admitting the snow, then let the 
snow come in. The air is essential, the 
snow merely a matter of inconvenience. 

My stable has a ten-foot overhang on 
the north side, and most of the windows 
are on that side. Only one window on 
the east gives me any trouble at all in 
this way, but as the snow falls on the 
floor, in front of the manger, it is easily 
swept up, and gives me no concern. 

The ventilators should be large, and 



128 

arranged at the discretion of tlie builder. 
But they must be ventilators in fact, and 
not alone in name. They should have no 
closing valve, for they should remain open 
all the time. It should be remembered, 
however, that to maintain an air current, 
requires the expenditure of force, and this 
must be provided for in some way. In 
winter I find nothing better than an open 
grate fire in the stable — but this a larger 
experience has shown to be unnecessary, 
although often convenient, — and in sum- 
mer I have found that the sun's rays fall- 
ing on the roof and front of the building 
can be utilized, and is sufiicient to excite 
a satisfactory current, and is quite inex- 
pensive. This, however, is a matter of 
mechanical detail. 



129 

It must not be forgotten that a stable 
requires mucli more air than a dwelling- 
house. Aside from the fact that a horse 
requires more fresh air than a man, from 
his original nature and constitution — not 
being an animal that in his wild condition 
seeks' any shelter, — aside from this, I say, 
his habits differ very much from those of 
man. 

As I have already said, he urinates in 
his stall, or box, and drops his dung where 
he stands, and this requires an extra al- 
lowance of air, to keep down unpleasant 
and unwholesome odors. What would be 
the condition of the air in a bedroom if 
man adopted the habits of the horse? 
And yet we have seen that, ordinarily, 
man supplies himself with a much larger 



I30 

amount of air than he gives his horse. 
Neither should we forget that the air of a 
close stable is a hot-bed of microbic forms. 
All kinds of pathogenic germs multiply 
here with great rapidity, and if the horse 
is injured by kicks, or other accidents, 
facilitating the entrance of germs, he 
will be liable to suffer from such diseases 
as tuberculosis and tetanus, especially 
the latter, which is common among horses, 
and as these diseases are now considered 
of microbic origin, his risks are increased 
by this exposure. 

But aside from these comparatively rare 
forms, the pyogenic or pus-forming germs 
may be said to be omnipresent, and espec- 
ially luxuriate, and multiply immensely, 
and take on increased virulence, in warm. 



131 

foul, and quiet air. Whatever other germs 
may be absent, these are constantly pre- 
sent, and if an animal receives a wound, 
from any cause, they are always ready to 
settle upon the parts, and at once set up 
the festering process and the formation 
of pus or matter. If the injury is lo- 
cated directly over a bone, as in the 
shin or lower jaw, this process often ex- 
tends to the periosteum — the membrane 
covering the bone and furnishing it its 
nourishment — and this frequently causes 
the death of a portion of the bone, and 
you have a long and tedious disease to 
care for, all because the animal has been 
forced to live in an atmosphere crowded 
with pus germs ; or, if the animal takes 
cold and has in consequence a sore throat. 



132 

these germs are very likely to effect a 
lodgment in tlie weakened mucous mem- 
brane and develop wliat the veterinarians 
call a quinsy, or strangles, or what-not; 
at any rate, pus is formed, and abscesses 
result, frequently breaking on the outside 
of the neck, slow to heal, and more or less 
dangerous to life. I have noticed that 
animals generally escape these compli- 
cations if the air is kept sufficiently fresh; 
the wounds dry up, and "scab over," and 
as the inflammatory engorgement sub- 
sides, the scabs in a few weeks fall off, 
leaving a perfectly healed surface, without 
the formation of any pus whatever ; and, 
indeed, this seems to be nature's method 
of cure in such cases. 

In arranging the ventilation of a stable. 



133 

it should always be kept in mind that the 
inside air can never, under any circum- 
stances, be better or more healthful than 
the air outside, and you can have, at 
your own option, anything you aim at. 
With bad air go sickly and degenerate 
horses ; with pretty good ventilation you 
will have pretty good horses ; with good 
ventilation, good horses ; but with perfect 
ventilation come perfect horses, — so far as 
individual possibilities admit — and the 
quality and condition of the hoof will fol- 
low exactly the same gradation. 

Finally, the method of stabling we have 
been advocating commends itself to us, 
not only because it conserves the health 
and wellbeing of the animal, but also as 
a matter of convenience to the keeper. 



134 

As there are no window-shutters to be 
opened and shut, they require no atten- 
tion ; the stable requires no airing in the 
morning, because it is always aired; and 
when being cleaned and swept, the dust is 
immediately carried out by the air cur- 
rents, so as not to be annoying. But 
it should be distinctly understood and 
remembered, that the inorganic dust 
is much less harmful than the organic 
dust — those microscopic germs, before 
spoken of, which, though they cannot be 
seen, are potent for evil, "the invisible 
powers of the air," whose acquaintance we 
have formed only in recent years, which 
commit their depredations in the quiet, 
and on the sly, and which revel most where 
the air is most foul and most stagnant. 



135 

As ordinarily kept, a horse must be taken 
out and exercised at stated periods, or he 
will suffer. But lie may be absolutely con- 
fined to a thoroughly fresh stable without 
being taken out at all, especially if kept in 
a box, and he will suffer no harm. He will 
not get stiff, his legs will not "stock," nor 
will he lose his appetite. He will remain 
perfectly well. I have seen this done so 
often, in the last four years, that I cannot 
be too positive about it. And this means 
a great deal in long storms and inclement 
weather of any kind. And in cases 
w^here horses are kept chiefly for plea- 
sure, or are not in constant use for 
any reason, it is an immense saving 
of time, expense and trouble to get 
rid of the constant necessity for exer- 



136 

cise. Whether a person's income be large 
or small, it is a great comfort not to be 
obliged either to exercise his horses himself 
or see that the exercise is not neglected 
by his groom, and know and feel that 
in this respect they are not suffering. 
Horsemen lay great stress on the impor- 
tance of constant exercise, in keeping a 
horse in good condition. They have seen 
the benefit arising from this, so great and 
noticeable that the attention has been 
entirely fixed on the exercise, and they 
have quite ignored the oxygen in the 
fresh air, which was supplied by the out- 
door work. Now, when we find the same 
benefit, from supplying the fresh air 
without the exercise, it must be seen that 
the exercise alone was not the chief cause 



137 

of the bettered condition. Not that I would 
decry the value of exercise ; this is good 
and valuable in its way — but its impor- 
tance in preserving and restoring health 
has evidently been overrated. This prin- 
ciple once appreciated, we will be able 
also to see that the troublesome practice 
of swathing the legs with bandages and 
the body with clothing or wraps, is also 
quite unessential in a wholesome stable, 
and we will slowly become disenthralled 
from the control of our grooms not only, 
but also of our own vain imaginings, and 
learn to dispense with the artificial re- 
quirements, and perhaps necessities, of 
the unwholesome stable, by simply elimi- 
nating from the stable its element of un- 
wholesomeness. To illustrate : I saw a 



138 

horse — considerably out of condition at 
the time, with swelled legs among other 
things — put in a perfectly fresh stable 
during the month of November, 1891. 
That animal was taken out just three 
times, to my certain knowledge, from the 
time of entrance until the following April. 
I saw him driven several times in April, 
and he moved with the sprightliness and 
agility of a colt. This horse was taken 
to the country in May, and having been 
brought back to town in the fall, was kept 
the following winter in a close warm sta- 
ble, and although not worked, was regu- 
larly exercised by the groom. He came 
out the next spring so stiff and spiritless 
that he would not have been recognized 
as the same animal ; and although here- 



139 

tofore always tractable and gentle, fell 
into tlie habit, when first put in this close 
stable, of breaking out of his stall and 
making an effort to escape. In this he 
finally succeeded, and running off, gal- 
loped to the fresh cold stable he had occu- 
pied the winter before, and entering, found 
his way, by a somewhat circuitous route, 
to his old box. Here he remained, quietly 
ruminating, and apparently happy, until 
he was found and taken away by his 
keeper. This may seem something like 
a fairy tale, but the facts, as stated, came 
under my personal observation. Here we 
may learn the important lesson, that the 
opinion a horse forms of the agreeableness 
of a fresh, freezing-cold stable is quite 
different from that of his keeper, and 



140 

plainly shows tlie difference between the 
animal's unerring instinct and man's hob- 
bling reason. 

Again, on the other hand, while exer- 
cise has been credited with too much in 
maintaining a horse in good condition, it 
has likewise been unduly blamed for 
damaging the animal when excessive and 
exhausting. ''Three blind 'uns and a 
bolter," which in the old coaching days in 
England was considered descriptive of the 
average stagecoach team, were not the 
product of the severe and straining work 
exacted of them, but of the stupidity of 
the stabling to which they were con- 
demned after, and indeed before, their hard 
and tiresome drives. The prematurely 
old, distorted, stiff and womout horses we 



141 

constantly see — Horses that are ruined 
and worthless at twelve, when they should 
be in their prime — owe their condition to 
the very same cause. Many of these 
horses can be restored, as I have seen, by 
placing them again in their natural habitat, 
clean y fresh air, but it takes too much 
time if the animal has been long and 
greatly disabled to be an economical pro- 
cedure — except in extremely valuable 
animals — requiring two, or three or even 
four years to get the best results. Inci- 
pient or slight disabilities disappear in a 
few months. 

To further illustrate this, I will say, 
that during the last four years I have 
seen a fine Kentucky saddle horse so stif- 
fened in the shoulders by hard riding and 



142 

close stabling that he had been con- 
demned as perfectly worthless, and sold 
for a few dollars, after having undergone 
all the traditional treatment for that con- 
dition, for a long time without benefit. 
He was so disabled that he could hardly 
get in or out of the stable ; he could 
not step backward with his left fore-foot 
at all, being obliged to drag it when mov- 
ing, or trying to move, in that direction. 
This horse, kept as I have herein indi- 
cated, and without any other treatment 
whatever, in six months could be ridden 
with little show of lameness, in one year 
he moved nicely, and in eighteen months 
was practically well. For the first year 
he was almost constantly in his box, and 
only taken out at long intervals. For the 



143 

first five months he was not taken out at 
all, and yet his improvement was constant 
and continuous. So these conditions, 
thoroughly maintained, conserve not only, 
but at the same time restore health. 

Here a word of caution might not be 
out of place. If horses are kept in any sta- 
ble for weeks or months without use they 
may contract thrush, especially if strange 
horses suffering from thrush are occa- 
sionally admitted. The disease is conta- 
gious, so the frogs should be constantly 
watched, whether the horse is shod or not, 
and any suspicion of thrush disposed of 
at once. How this can be done is suffi- 
ciently stated on page 117. 

Colonel Ingersoll is reported to have said, 
that '4f he had made the world, he would 



144 

have made health catching, instead of dis- 
ease." That result to the horse will be real- 
ized if the conditions I have described are 
fully complied with, and the invaluable 
quality of endurance at speed, which by 
our common methods of stabling has 
nearly been lost, may again be restored 
to him, and instead of a feeble, sweating, 
weak-footed animal, we have once more a 
normal horse, perfect in healthy in hoof^ 
and in hardiness. 

At the risk of seeming prolix, I will 
add here, that I have seen a young horse 
"over at the knees," with swelled hocks, 
and in bad condition generally, completely 
recover in a year by this method, and 
remain well, though subjected to constant 
hard usage, and that animal is still in per- 



145 

feet eondition; and another horse so disabled 
from what is commonly called ^'heaves/' 
that it could scarcely be driven, completely 
cured in less than a year, and subsequently 
sold as a sound animal. Cases of so-called 
*' sweeny," various eye diseases, etc., have 
disappeared without medication of any 
kind, under this method, and during the 
winter of i892-'93 — the coldest winter we 
have had for years, — out of a dozen horses 
so kept, not one had a cough or cold 
or suffered from sickness in any way. 
No horse was blanketed, and no horse 
shivered. 

Here, objection will be made, that all 
this may be possible for horses slowly har- 
dened to this extreme exposure to cold, 
but that those unaccumstomed to this 



146 

method will suffer. Sucli, however, is not 
the case. During the past four years I have 
many times seen horses brought from 
close warm stables in midwinter, and 
placed at once, without any covering 
whatever, in a fresh cold one, and in not 
a single instance did they suffer in the 
least; no more than by turning them 
from a close warm stable into the pasture 
field, and this was never known to be hurt- 
ful. The accommodation is always com- 
plete and instantaneous, and the change 
immediately beneficial. I could not say 
this, and would scarcely have believed it, 
had I not seen it myself. The danger is 
not in complete freshness, but in partial 
timid and incomplete freshness — the blow- 
ing of the wind through a small window, 



147 

for instance, and striking the animal, in an 
otherwise tight enclosure. This might 
properly be called a draft, as differing 
from wind. Wind is air in perceptible 
motion. It may be fitful or irregular, 
and -is then called gusty, not drafty. 
A draft is wind restricted, so as to act 
locally and partially, not generally, and 
can only occur in an enclosure, as in the 
instance just mentioned. As soon as the 
motion is generally diffused, it partakes of 
the nature of wind, and is quite harmless 
not only, but agreeable and invigorating 
to the horse, because he is a windy-country 
animal. 

The converse of the above proposition 
is, however, not true. The animal after 
having been kept in clean fresh air for a 



148 

time cannot be transferred to a close 
stable, without great risk. He will almost 
certainly become sick, and often danger- 
ously so. 

In sucH a stable as we Have described 
we have all the advantages of an open 
plain or pasture field, without the attend- 
ing inconveniences and dangers. The ani- 
mal is protected from snow, hail, rain and 
mud ; the air and winds, though not ex- 
cluded, are tempered by the screened win- 
dows. The horse is sheltered from the hot 
sun and the attacks of flies ; he is in no 
danger of being injured by wire fences, or 
wounded or hurt by contests with strange 
horses ; he cannot stray or be stolen or 
tampered with in any way ; he is at hand 
to be cared for, and is always ready for use. 



149 

We simply bring the air to the horse 
instead of turning the horse out to the 
air, and thus combine the freshness of 
the paddock with the safety of the stable, 
and this we have not for a few months, 
but during the entire year. 

Strange to say, — no, not strange, but 
pitiful, — very many people close their 
stables as tight as possible ; in the winter 
to shut out the cold, and in the summer 
to shut out the flies. They can feel the 
cold and see the flies, but the oxygen of 
the fresh air, being only visible to the 
mind's eye, they can neither see nor feel, 
and quite escapes attention. Thus in 
both cases the absolutely essential is ex- 
cluded to avoid a merely trivial annoy- 
ance. How shall we rate the intelligence 



I50 

that can see a horse shivering in a close 
cold stable, and yet think he is more 
comfortable than in a fresh cold one 
where he never shivers, even after drink- 
ing ice water. Indeed, perfection in fresh- 
ness is never reached short of this ice 
water test. Now this may seem incredible 
to many persons, especially to grooms 
and stable keepers, bnt it is not the less 
true on that account. // may be put down 
as a ruley without exception^ unvarying and 
universal^ that when a horse shivers fro7n 
cold in a stable^ it is because the air is 
not sufficiently fresh ^ and the remedy is 
not to close^ but to open up freely^ until all 
shivering ceases^ and then forever after- 
wards keep up and maintain the same con- 
dition of freshness. No condition of the 



151 

horse necessitates or justifies any modi- 
fication of this rule. If sick, he needs no 
less air than if well ; if tired and sweating 
no less than if fresh and dry. Closing 
the windows only puts him to a disad- 
vantage, and so far from keeping him 
from catching cold, only renders him 
more likely to do so. 

It is a noticeable fact, and one that I 
have repeatedly observed, that a horse 
turned out of his box or stall, in a per- 
fectly fresh stable, and left to roam the 
stable at large, will not voluntarily leave 
the place, although the outside doors are 
left wide open ; and if taken out and led 
away some distance and then turned 
loose, instead of racing through the 
streets, will, after a few preliminary 



152 

jumps, turn about, gallop back, and re- 
enter the stable. 

I remember seeing a horse in February, 
1893, that had not been out for weeks, 
taken out, and the doors at both ends of 
the stable having been purposely closed, 
led up an alley perhaps two hundred 
3/ards to an intersecting street, and let go. 
After a few flourishes in the way of jump- 
ing and kicking, he ran back to the 
stable. Coming to the east door and find- 
ing it closed, he turned about and went to 
the west end, and this entrance being 
shut, he wheeled about again and en- 
tered on the carriage floor above, and 
Vv^ent down the incline- van -way to his 
box. This is clearly because such 
horses are not suffering from air hun- 



153 

ger, and know a good thing when they 
have it. 

It will be found also that the behavior 
of a horse leaving a cool fresh stable on 
a cold morning is in marked contrast 
with the conduct of a horse leaving a close 
warm one. The former comes out quietly 
and sprightly, he sniffs the cold air but is 
not unduly excited by it; he seems to 
enjoy it without the least discomfort; 
while the latter is nervous, restless, ex- 
cited, sometimes shivers, can hardly be 
kept quiet, and is difficult to control. 
Drive the first-mentioned horse five miles 
or so, and at the end of the drive he is 
just as fresh and free as at the start — 
sometimes even more so. He sweats, if at 
all, very moderately, and is quite ready for 



154 

another dash. The latter, after driving 
about the same distance, will lose spirit, 
toss his head up and down, as if fatigued, 
lop his ears, require the touch of the 
whip every little while to prevent his 
lagging, and move reluctantly, as ^'the 
whining school boy, creeping like snail 
unwillingly to school," — and, instead of 
sweating on his neck, shoulders and 
flanks, as in the former case, will sweat 
profusely all over, and to such a degree 
as to have forced upon us the practice of 
clipping and singeing, as before men- 
tioned. On stopping, it suggests the 
necessity of a blanket, which is never 
needed in the case of the first-mentioned 
horse, who can stop, after a drive in the 
cold air, with perfect impunity. I have 



155 

seen my own horse, and lie was a high- 
strung and nervous animal, stand an hour 
tied to a post at the curbstone, after a 
drive, when the thermometer was near 
zero, and instead of being restless and im- 
patient, have found him quietly dozing. 

The horse blanket then, instead of 
being, as many think, a positive necessity, 
is merely a matter of fancy — ornamental, 
perhaps, but quite unscientific — giving 
much more comfort to the owner than to 
the animal. Personally I never use one. 
This need not apply to stable wraps to 
keep the coat from being soiled or 
scratched, which is merely a matter of 
grooming. It will be noticed, however, 
that a horse will not rub himself, or tear 
his clothing in a perfectly fresh stable. 



156 

It should not entirely escape our atten- 
tion, that when we cover a horse with a 
blanket, no matter how much imaginary 
pleasure it may afford us, we are really 
only trying to protect the toughest part 
of the animal, — his roof, as it were, where 
the skin is the thickest, and the coat 
heaviest, and the sensibility the least, — 
while the cold air has free access to the 
under parts of the body, where the skin is 
the thinnest, and the coat lightest, and 
the sensibility much the greatest. 

There is another aspect of this subject, 
deserving more than a passing notice. 
After a horse has been kept for a year or 
two in his natural habitat, he regains 
all the certainty and accuracy of move- 
ment characteristic of the wild state. 



157 

He never misses a step nor miscalcu- 
lates a distance ; all the original har- 
mony existing between the special senses, 
the nervous system, and the muscu- 
lar movements is again complete. He 
hears -everything, sees everything, and is 
ready for every emergency. He will al- 
most never stumble, and it seems impos- 
sible for him to fall. Instead of requiring 
to be guided and guarded from danger, he 
is himself conscious of every peril, and 
will avoid even those dangers of which 
his rider is not cognizant. His power 
and quickness of perception and readi- 
ness of resource are marvellous ; all he 
requires is to be given the rein in difficult 
places, and he will bring himself and rider 
safely through every hazard. 



158 

His eyes having elongated pupils, like 
those of the cat, he can see as well in a 
starless night as in the full blaze of the 
midday sun. Unlike man, blind in the 
dark, or the owl, blind in the sunlight, he 
requires neither a lantern at night nor a 
sunshade at noon, but can see with equal 
clearness in the dazzling glitter of sunlit 
snow fields, and in the, to us, pitch dark- 
ness of a cloudy midnight. He is thus a 
source of safety — a companion to be re- 
lied upon and trusted, instead of a machine 
to be guided. His rider may be dreaming 
or absorbed in thought, but he is always 
on the alert, watching over his master's 
safety as well as his own. His very ex- 
istence in the wild state depends upon 
this vigilant quickness and ubiquity of 



159 

vision. When wildly running over un- 
accustomed ground, in the night as well 
as by day, he must not tumble into ra- 
vines, or plunge into bogs, or collide with 
trees, or miss his footing, nor fall ; if that 
should happen, it would settle for him the 
question of the survival of the fittest, and 
the prostrate horse would not be a candi- 
date for preferment ; his friends, the car- 
nivora, would appropriate the remains, and 
leave the perpetuity of the equine race to 
animals that do not fall. Now with our 
domesticated horses nothing is more com- 
mon than to see or hear of a rider going 
down with results more or less disastrous^ 
because his horse has fallen, and this 
for the reason that his horse has lost 
the traits with which nature had en- 



i6o 

do wed him, but which man has taken 
away. 

It might be said, perhaps, that man's 
conduct towards the horse has not been 
very unlike that of the brooding hen, 
who, beguiled into hatching the eggs of a 
duck instead of her own, and not being 
familiar with the natural habits and in- 
stincts of her new acquisition, gives her- 
self an endless amount of worry, because 
the little ducklings have such a reckless 
tendency to take to the water, and uses 
all her arts of pursuasion and cajolery 
to keep her wayward brood from be- 
ing injured by this strange fascination. 
So with equal intelligence man has 
been indulging in anxious efforts to pre- 
vent the hardy, rollicking denizen of the 



i6i 

windy plains, from being injured by 
the outside fresh air, — the one thing 
his instincts crave, and the demands 
of his nature make imperative. 

The truth of it is, we have not hereto- 
fore been governed in these matters by 
reason, but rather by a sickly sentimen- 
tality and unknowledge. A horse cannot 
speak. He is incapable of expressing 
his wants, or feelings, in articulate lan- 
guage. If he could, he would indulge in 
a great deal of profanity, very likely. 
But to the observant he need not talk. 
When he pricks up his ears, and is quick 
and vigorous in his movements, his eyes 
bright, and eats with a relish, and does 
not shiver, — a horse always shivers if too 
cold — one may safely come to the con- 



l62 

elusion that he is not unhappy. In 
forming an opinion as to his comfort, by 
thus interrogating the horse, we will be 
able to arrive at a rational conclusion ; 
but if we form an opinion by consulting 
our own feelings or fancies, or the ther- 
mometer, we are sure to fall into error. 

How, indeed, can we possibly tell as to 
what is agreeable to the horse, except by 
his appearance, conduct and actions ? We 
can tell what is pleasant, or the reverse, 
to ourselves, by our own feelings, and we 
can infer from this as to the feelings of 
other men, but we cannot make any com- 
parison between ourselves and the horse, 
because we belong to an entirely different 
class. We came into the world naked, 
with bare and tender feet, and we cannot 



163 

run, or walk even, for years after birth. 
The colt is bom with its coat on and a 
set of horn shoes to protect its feet, and 
can run, in a few hours, nearly as fast as its 
mother. We v/ould not enjoy a mess of cut 
feed, nor take pleasure in masticating hay 
or grass, any more than a horse would be 
happy over a dinner of roast beef or ham 
and eggs. How, then, can we know that 
a horse delights in being kept warm, be- 
cause this happens to be agreeable to 
ourselves ? As soon as we begin to study 
this matter objectively, instead of sub- 
jectively, to learn to look, and see^ and 
not merely to imagine, we will be ap- 
proaching the line of modem scientific 
methods. 

If what I have written is true, and it 



i64 

is true, tlie greater part of veterinary 
medicine will have to be rewritten. All 
the diseases produced by the deficient 
oxidation of tissue must be eliminated, 
and aside from accidents, traumatisms, 
etc., very many horse diseases, now 
recognized, will go the way of "miliary 
fever" and such like afflictions of man- 
kind that flourished two or three hundred 
years ago, when physicians shut their 
patients in close rooms, stuffed cotton in 
the key-holes, caulked the window and 
door cracks, sweltered the sick under 
loads of blankets, and gave hot drinks 
to sweat out disease, until at last it 
was found that fresh air and cleanli- 
ness had a value, and now even the 
names of these diseases are found only 



i65 

in medical text books of a century 
ago. 

There was, of course, some excuse for 
these old doctors. Little was then known 
of the functions and philosophy of respira- 
tion, and even the existence of a pulmo- 
nary circulation had hardly been dis- 
covered, and was not at all understood. 
But this excuse is not available for us in 
the closing days of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, and it is a sad commentary on the 
intelligence of educated man, and we may 
add, of the medical profession, that in 
this regard we have retrograded instead 
of advancing; and in caring for our 
horses, we are practically behind the 
semi-civilized and even savage races. 

Much intelligent care and study has 



1 66 

been given to selection and breeding in 
the horse, and in this way many impor- 
tant traits have been developed or im- 
proved; but in great measure, often en- 
tirely, the fact that oxygen is as essential 
to his existence as food or water, has 
been ignored or forgotten. Deprived of 
food alone he will live many days, but 
will soon die if water is withheld, and 
almost at once if the supply of oxygen 
is cut off. 

In this direction, I think, we must now 
look for any important advance in the 
future development or value of the horse. 



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